Old Friends, New Feelings
by ecb327
Summary: Four years after going to the Institute, the Benedict Society attempts to settle into a fairly normal life. Things don't go quite as planned, however, and before they know it, they're engaged in yet another battle. Not your typical Kaynie fic- it's more of an action/adventure story sprinkled with tidbits of romance. Read & review!
1. The First Day

_Summary – _The children all begin to settle into fairly normal lives when – surprise – they are soon engaged in yet another adventure and good vs. evil battle.

_Author's note – _This is a Kaynie fic, so you can expect some fluff, but not all. I've created some new characters, kept old ones, and adore reviews and requests, so don't be shy to speak up! Also, should be noted that while the fic is basically complete in terms of plot, I am in the process of going through and fixing/updating the chapters, because it's kind of a mess. I'll be posting updates more consistently on Archive Of Our Own, here: /works/1184860. Enjoy!

**Reynie**

_It's just the first day_, Reynie thought, nervously tapping his pencil on the desk. _Calm down_.

Truthfully, though, calming down seemed nearly impossible, seeing as first days didn't tend to go well. In fact, he'd only really attended one "first day," and that was four years ago. Back then, it was under rather different circumstances – namely, to thwart his mentor's evil twin and restore peace to an otherwise imminently-corrupt nation. Or something like that.

Other students slowly started filing in. Reynie was instantly reminded of that auspicious day, also four years ago, when he took the series of tests that eventually promoted him to said assignment. He'd been so very anxious, waiting all by himself in a state of confusion.

Things were hardly the same now, however, as they were then, he reminded himself sternly. He now had Miss Perumal and her kindly mother, Pati; his best friends Kate, Sticky, and Constance; and he'd even grown to be taller and slightly less average-looking. Mr. Benedict, Number Two, and Rhonda still lived in the same house, with Constance as their legally adopted daughter.

No, he had nothing to worry about. He had such a strong, loving support system, and just thinking about them made him smile. He couldn't wait to see Sticky and Kate, despite the fact that he'd seen both a only few days ago. Sticky had sprouted up just like Reynie, and, of course, retained his prodigious memory. With the aid of family therapy, his parents had gradually grown to forgive themselves, and consequently were marginally less clingy.

Kate lived happily with Milligan and Moochos on the farm; she had "simply blossomed," as Number Two, increasingly fond of such sentimental pronouncements, stated during their last visit. Indeed, thought Reynie fondly, she was, if possible, even more agile, clever, and thoughtful – not to mention her eyes, which had become more noticeable in passing years, for they were the same deep blue as her father. When Sticky remarked factually upon their hue, along with a series of obscure references to other little known objects that shared their color, Kate threatened to punch him.

And then there was Constance. Reynie had to smile at the thought of her. She had probably changed (and somewhat improved) the most of the three, because according to Sticky behavioral and limbic development during toddler years was tremendous. She was indignant to find herself growing, complained about shrinking clothes, yet even as her fourth and fifth birthdays passed, the fussiness diminished significantly. Rhonda called her a "diva," which for some reason amused Mr. Benedict greatly – and, Reynie thought with a familiar surge of pride, he could now laugh as much as he wanted with no risk of falling asleep due to narcolepsy!

Constance's skills had been fine-tuned via home-schooling (even as he contemplated this, she was still at the house, undergoing daily lessons and tests), and she now possessed an impressive capacity to predict and seemingly "read minds" that, while unnerving to many, seemed perfectly normal in the eyes of her three comrades.

Reynie's thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of his homeroom teacher. She clapped her hands – everyone clambered hastily to their feet – and said crisply,

"Hello, everyone. I'm Mrs. Bryant, your sophomore English teacher!" Her voice was sharp, but somehow pleasant. "Ignore whatever you've heard about me; you are here to do nothing but learn, do you understand?" She fixated on every student with an intense gaze, then consulted her clipboard and announced, "We have a new student this year: Reynard Muldoon."

Heads swiveled around to stare at him, and he did his best to appear calm and relaxed. "Hey, guys," he said nonchalantly.

"He's cute," a girl next to him whispered to her friend, who shrugged and nodded half-heartedly. He flushed at this, making a mental note to ask Miss Perumal about what precisely it meant when a girl said that and how best to respond. As a matter of fact, how _was_ he going to learn what life was like as a normal fifteen-year-old boy in a normal high school with normal classmates? At the orphanage, everyone mocked him for being nerdy, and his experiences at the Institute could hardly be used as proper examples of public school.

The teacher continued to call out names, Reynie raising his hand like the others when his was uttered, and then, after distributing a stack of necessary papers to be signed by guardians at such and such a date or else, Mrs. Bryant allowed them to talk quietly among themselves until the bell rang.

"What do you think of her?" a boy next to him asked. He was short, with glasses and rather messy blond hair.

"Who?"

"Mrs. Bryant, the teacher. My sister had her. She says she's the best but strictest teacher in the whole school."

Reynie tried to look properly awed by this, but found himself distracted. Was it just him, or had one of the ceiling tiles just moved?

"That's nice," he replied awkwardly, still eyeing the ceiling. "Can you, uh, excuse me?"

"Sure. See you around, man."

"Right. Have a nice day." Reynie quickly gathered his things and slipped out of the room and into the hallway. A few seconds later, as he'd properly predicted, Kate Wetherall dropped down in front of him. Though she was almost a year his senior, they'd been put in the same grade because, thanks to her years at the circus, she was a bit behind in studies. (Sticky, on the other hand, was attending a highly acclaimed university a few blocks away.)

"You really shouldn't do those things here, you know. They'll expel you," said Reynie.

"I know." She grinned, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. "A bunch of kids made fun of my bucket today."

He glanced at it, a shiny silver affair featuring a hidden catch and multitudes of pockets inside, attached to her by a sturdy black belt. The Benedict Society might be used to it, but being unusual, was likely to warrant some brand of ridicule. "What did you say?"

"I told them there was a laser pointer in it that could take their ears off if they didn't shut up. I even reached into my bucket for show. They got quiet pretty fast after that."

Half-amused, half-concerned, Reynie had to laugh. "Kate, that's hardly an inconspicuous start," he said sternly. His recent growth spurt had finally put him almost four inches taller than her, much to her chagrin and his smugness.

She shrugged. "You know me. I don't _do_ inconspicuous."

"That's for sure." There was comfortable silence for a few minutes as they observed the lines of rusty lockers and gum-strewn floors in the hallway, and then Kate reached out and spontaneously pulled him into a hug. She'd learned to be a little more gentle when doing this, at least with people who didn't have superhuman strength like Milligan; thankfully, Reynie's ribs didn't feel as though they'd cracked.

"I'm so happy we're here!" she enthused in a sudden outburst of energy, proceeding to perform a complicated series of back flips to express just how happy she was. "I mean, we don't need to worry about Ten Men, or Mr. Curtain, or who we can and can't trust, or anything! Do you understand how amazing this is?" She seized Reynie by the shoulders and started to shake him so hard his teeth clattered. "Oh. Sorry." Letting go, she began pacing animatedly. "I mean, imagine what it would be like if we'd never met each other or taken those tests! I'd be stuck feeding elephants all day, Sticky would probably still be on the run or in jail or something awful, who knows what would have happened to Constance, and you, you'd be at the Stonetown Orphanage getting mocked all day without me to deck those awful kids!"

Not knowing what to say to that, Reynie said conversationally, "This girl in my homeroom class called me 'cute.'"

Kate paused. "What?"

"I was saying hi to the class, and she turns to her friend, this other girl, and goes, 'He's cute!'" She narrowed her eyes at him calculatingly. "I mean, what was_ that_ about?"

"Well…" Kate cocked her head, still scrutinizing him. "You don't look as scrawny and boring as you used to. You're polite, kinda dorky, but sweet." Out of character, coming from her, but Reynie didn't mind. "I can see why they'd say that."

"Seriously?"

She grinned, tweaking his nose. "Nah, I'm just kidding."

The bell rang; both of them jumped. Kate scampered off before he could say anything else, and he stood there, wondering where he was to go and why in the world he felt disappointed to discover that she'd only been joking.

–––––

**Kate**

Kate hurried down the hallway, if only to escape being in Reynie's presence which, for some strange reason, made her feel suddenly tongue-tied. The thing was, she hadn't been kidding whatsoever.

Over the past summer, she'd begun to feel... not odd, but just distinctly _different_. It frustrated her beyond belief that such bizarre new feelings could just waltz in unannounced and begin interfering with her normally clear mind.

Really, what was wrong with her? Why did she suddenly feel this way about Reynie, when they'd been close friends for years now? Somehow she wanted to be around him much more than normal, and felt goose bumps when he walked into the room and smiled at her.

It wasn't like she could talk to Milligan about this issue. She most certainly didn't want him to judge or worry about her for feeling this way and thinking these things. And if he knew that she was in any way compromised, the chances of him recruiting her for a secret mission were sure to be greatly reduced.

However, these feelings weren't at all unnatural. She wasn't compromised, not in the least. Good heavens, if everybody who develops crushes and attractions to other people were put at a disadvantage, the entire world would be crumbling already. No, there was nothing wrong with her, nothing wrong whatsoever. To a girl who was used to jumping out of airplanes and outsmarting sinister Ten Men, all in under ten seconds, though, this _was_ quite unprecedented. And Reynie? Of all the people to like as more than a friend!

Kate glanced up, realized she was lost, and doubled back the other way. Come to that, she had no idea where she was or where she ought to be going. Which was most unlike her, and only served to prove that this – this boy thing, or whatever it was, was simply too much of a distraction. No, she decided stubbornly, she would simply have to smother this strange feeling and move on with life.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to take a break. While the concept of school was just peachy, she didn't do well with structured time. Not to mention that it was lovely weather outside. And so, without thinking twice, she walked out of the building, up the adjacent hill, found a tree, and practiced hanging upside down, lassoing the uppermost branch, and executing a splendid triple twist to right herself, all in barely fifteen seconds.


	2. Sophie

**Reynie**

Reynie entered the cafeteria, nearly got hit in the head by a flying wad of someone's homework, and promptly exited. Miss Perumal had made him a lovely peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a little bag of carrots and celery and thermos of milk, all of which she packaged neatly into an insulated lunch box they'd found on sale at some store or other. He was about to head to the bathroom and eat there when he realized that he hadn't seen Kate around at all since their strange conversation in the hall that morning.

He checked the most obvious places first, but she was nowhere to be found, not even in the gymnasium – which had a very Kate-like vibe to it, what with ropes and bars and ladders every which way. Just as he had begun to worry, his phone rang.

A cell phone was a new acquisition; up until now, Reynie had lived a life quite sheltered from technology. However, in light of their integration into public school, the adults had collectively decided that for the sake of safety, it was best to provide the children with proper communication.

Constance complained immediately that she didn't understand why she didn't have a fancy device, too, to which Sticky unhelpfully launched into a lecture on the negative effects of radioactive waves on "little kids" but then semi-helpfully said she could borrow his old graphing calculator to play with, so long as she didn't erase any of his programs. This earned him a poetic barrage entailing loads of unkind rhyming and horrible phrasing; unfortunately, while her maturity might have increased in the past few years, Constance's poetic skills remained sub-par.

Milligan, for his part, presented Kate with a phone disguised as a radio. She'd been thrilled at first, thinking that this was her initiation into his little gathering of secret agents, and was less pleased to discover it was "just a dumb old phone."

Naturally, Sticky spent two minutes reading over and memorizing the entire manual; he then proceeded to engineer a case that would supposedly "preserve the exterior," in addition to a textbook's worth of aerodynamics and physics and scribbled notes on applied force that went straight over everybody's heads.

The three of them shared a plan which enabled unlimited messages and calling. While such a setup would normally delight many of their peers it was a bit of a letdown, accustomed as they were to mind-blowing missions full of danger and limit-pushing.

All of this passed through Reynie's mind as he answered his first call from Sticky. The caller ID featured a grainy photograph of him grimacing at the camera; judging by the steep upper angle, it was probably taken by Constance. Making a mental note to change it both for his sake and his friend's, Reynie answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, is Reynard Muldoon there?" Before he could answer, Sticky evidently hit himself in the head, causing a muffled thump. "I'm sorry, Reynie, I'm just terribly nervous, but it's your phone, so obviously… well, anyway. How is it over there?"

"Pretty good. Kate disappeared after homeroom, though, so I'm trying to find her."

"Hm. Did you try the exterior of the building?"

"Not yet."

"I would recommend it." He paused, then confessed miserably, "Oh, it's simply awful here!"

Reynie finally located a door leading outside – the very one that Kate had passed through a few hours before – and stepped into the crisp autumn air. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said presently. "Why is it so bad?"

"I keep sweating and polishing my spectacles and all the older children keep looking at me – I mean, they're in their twenties, after all – and I can't even get my hand up, I'm shaking so much. I got so nervous that on the first exam I almost forgot one of the definitions. And it was one of the words that I correctly answered on my highest-scoring quiz!" His voice had become quite shrill. Reynie knew that he was referring to the quizzes his parents had forced him to partake in once they'd realized his high intellect.

Trying to sound soothing while simultaneously searching for Kate, Reynie asked, "Have you made any friends there?"

"No, not really. There's a… a girl in my pottery class. She's our age; she's taking extracurricular classes here. I think she goes to your school, though."

Reynie bit back a laugh. "You're taking pottery?"

"Yes, well, I had to take an elective, and that was the only decent one; I'm hopeless at understanding anything but the psychological concepts behind music, and pottery has such an intriguing history; I mean, have you ever read… oh, there she is. I – oh." A loud clatter sounded on his end of the line.

"What?" Reynie started up the hill.

Sounding mortified, Sticky mumbled, "She waved at me and I accidentally dropped all my books."

"Come on, you can do it, Sticky!" Reynie encouraged, admittedly preoccupied as he thought he caught a glimpse of Kate, only to discover it was another student bearing a vague resemblance. "Really!"

He sounded despondent as he replied, "I hope so. Remember, I antagonized the only girlfriend I've ever had by remarking on her pulchritude. It was a compliment, for heaven's sake!"

"You aren't exactly the most, erm, average boy, that's true," Reynie conceded. Then, spotting a familiar lock of blond hair up above, he said hastily, "Oh, I've just seen Kate. I'll see you after school, okay? Hang in there!" and hung up.

With a rising sense of giddy anticipation – was he mad? He'd seen her barely three hours ago! – he hurried up the hill. Sure enough, she was sitting there, legs in some sort of pretzel position and chewing an apple as though it was the most normal thing in the world. Impossibly high above her hung a pair of tennis shoes.

"Oh, hello, Reynie," she said brightly. Following his upward gaze, she explained, "I wanted to take my shoes off, but they're new and Milligan warned me against getting grass stains on them, at least the first day, so I just tied them up there."

"But how did you get up that high? It's – you know what? Never mind. I don't think I want to know."

She pretended to be hurt, then laughed, shoving him gently (well, gently for Kate, which meant a bit roughly for a normal person), her hair falling onto the side of her face and catching the afternoon sun.

"I heard from Sticky," Reynie said to break the silence. "He's doing… well enough."

"He must be pleased to be around other geniuses like him," said Kate matter-of-factly. "I mean, despite the fact that he's so dreadfully awkward, it's just as well he isn't at high school with us."

"That's true," replied Reynie, privately grateful that he had Kate to himself. The second the thought crossed his mind, though, he felt incredibly ashamed. What was wrong with him? Had their adventures meant nothing to him? Since when was it a competition for Kate, between him and his very best friend, Sticky? He didn't know what to say, then, and thankfully the bell rang.

Kate lost no time in springing to her feet and grabbing his hand (almost yanking his arm out of his socket), and was sprinting back into the school building before he could so much as catch his breath. A split second later, she'd scampered back to race up the tree, snatch her shoes, returning in under two seconds. These things, which had once seemed odd, now were so familiar that he was rather surprised to see girls who didn't share Kate's remarkable agility and buoyant personality.

Speaking of girls, a small group met him as he was heading into school. They were at the cafeteria door and as he pulled it open, one boldly jumped in front of him.

"Hi, you're Reynie, right?" she said, flashing him a confident smile. "And you're a sophomore?"

"I… yes, I am," he responded, taken aback.

"That's awesome. I'm Sophie, I'm also a sophomore, and I think we're in a few classes together. Oh, by the way, this is my best friend Chloe" – a red-headed girl waved – "and our other friend Meg." Meg was a tall girl with thick brown hair and lots of eye makeup. "Here's my number. Text me." She handed him a slip of paper, then linked arms with her two friends and, with a friendly wink, skipped off, leaving Reynie contemplating what further interactions might prove to be as peculiar in the coming weeks of high school.


	3. Chapter 4

**Sticky**

Meanwhile, George "Sticky" Washington was having his own set of problems – romantic and otherwise.

As he'd mentioned to Reynie on the phone before, school was awfully nerve-wracking this year. After all, his experiences with education were not the most positive, seeing as he'd once been forced by his parents to compete in quiz shows, ultimately driving him to run away; and the other time he'd been at "school" there had been the constant threat of being brainwashed or electrocuted with shock watches of "Executives". All in all, it made perfect sense that he should feel some apprehension.

Unfortunately for Sticky, who was notoriously fidgety by nature, being surrounded by all these people was not the most appealing of situations, but he was a bit stuck in it, seeing as that was basically what it was like at university. To make matters worse, there was a girl involved, and Sticky's only girlfriend had broken up with him for remarking on her pulchritude (she took offense, thinking that it was an insult).

As Sticky stumbled down the hall on his second day, heading to the art room, he ran into her.

"Oh, hi," she said in a friendly voice, smiling encouragingly at him.

"Hi," he squeaked out "Where are you going?"

Casting him a slightly questioning look, she gestured. "Um… pottery? We're in that class together."

"Right, right, I knew that," he stammered, tripping over his shoelace.

"So, how did you get to be named 'Sticky'?" she asked, once he'd returned to walking like a semi-normal person.

"Um, well, I know a lot, and it all sticks in my head, hence the 'Sticky'."

"Cool!" she said. When he didn't say anything in response, preferring to stare bashfully at the ground, she extended her hand. "By the way, I'm Cleo."

He shook it, hoping fervently that his hand wasn't sweaty. "I'm Sticky. Wait, you already knew that. I'm sorry. What I meant was – well, I – "

"Hey, it's okay," Cleo said, looking in amusement at him. "We're all nervous on our first day, and I don't even go to this school normally."

"Why do you come here, then?"

"Oh, I don't usually," she replied casually, flicking her auburn hair back into a ponytail. "But I'm really interested in art, sculpture and pottery in particular. Well, really sculpture, but pottery was the only thing that actually fit into my timeframe, so that's what I have to do. I take the bus back to high school after class, unless there's lunch next, and I usually stay for that too."

Thankful that she was doing most of the talking, Sticky nodded, beginning to relax a little. At this point they'd reached the classroom, and she followed him in.

"Here, sit next to me!" She patted the stool next to her and Sticky took a seat. The teacher entered the classroom, balancing an oversized mug of green tea and clumsily-wrapped slab of clay.

"Hi, class," she said, tossing a gigantic key ring into the table. "Sorry I'm late; my car wouldn't start. I'm still getting to know your names so I'm afraid attendance will be a little slow today. To mix things up, I'm going to start at the bottom of the list." She glanced down at the smudged paper in her hand. "Also, in case you forgot, my name is Miss Andalus but you can call me Andi.

"Anyway, here we go. Um… George Washington?"

A wave of titters spread through the room.

"Here. And it's Sticky," Sticky corrected.

"Right, right, sorry!" She scribbled something next to his name, then moved up on the list. "Cleopatra Valentine?"

Unabashedly, Cleo raised her hand. "Just call me Cleo," she said, and shot a glare at one of the guys who was whispering something rude to his deskmate.

"Got it." Andi took a swig of tea, then moved onto the next kid.

"Your name's Cleopatra?" asked Sticky in awe.

"Yeah, didn't you figure that out yesterday?"

"No, I was, uh, late," he said, trying not to remember how lost he'd been in the beginning. Of course, now that he knew his way around the school, it was stuck in his brain, but the first day was rough.

"Well, it is," Cleo said, smiling. "And I don't mind if you make fun."

"No, not at all," he said, having found yet another thing he respected in this girl. "Cleopatra was deeply inspirational… a great beauty… really, quite astounding… her legacy…" His voice trailed off as he realized he was rambling but to his surprise, instead of turning away, Cleo was listening intently.

"You know a lot." It was a statement, not a question. She was casting him a peculiar glance, not calculating, exactly, but… he couldn't put a name to it.

"Yes, I suppose I do. It makes me rather unpopular, I'm sorry to say."

"It shouldn't. It's cool that you know all that. Most people your age don't have a proper head on their shoulders. It's kind of pathetic."

"Um, thanks? That was a compliment, right?"

"Yeah, it was," Cleo said, grinning at his confusion. "Now shh, she's talking!"

Andi, having gone through the rest of the names, was now passing out bricks of clay and tools and giving instructions. And without further ado, Sticky dug in with gusto, figuring that at least _this_ ought to make sense when all else failed to do so.

**So what do you think? Do you like Cleo? Leave your comments! I love reviews! Also, any ideas for a super-secret mission or bad guys that Mr. Benedict might have in mind for the MBS? I love writing this but I'll only keep updating if you love reading it, so review review review! Thanks guys! By the way, you've been giving great reviews, so just keep it up haha. **


	4. Chapter 5

**So, I haven't been on in forever because life has been so busy for me, but now it's summer and hopefully I will have enough down time to update more frequently. Review your comments, requests, thoughts, and suggestions! Thank you so much!**

**Constance**

Constance waited impatiently for the other three to get home. _Her_ school finished early, primarily because Number Two could only handle so much of her rambunctiousness, and even Mr. Benedict's patience was stretched thin by lunchtime.

And so Constance did what she always did to pass the time: get into trouble here and there, break some things, un-clean her room, throw a tantrum, eat all the cookies in the cookie jar – she'd developed an unfortunate habit of reading Rhonda's mind to find out where the jar was hidden.

She felt the usual tug in her brain at half past three and raced to her window. Sure enough, Kate, Reynie, and Sticky were meandering up the street. When they stepped into the house they were greeted enthusiastically as Constance bounced off the floor to fling her arms around Sticky.

"Um, hi," he said, taken aback and trying to get out of her grasp. "Personal space, please."

"Obviously," she grumbled, composing herself and crossing her arms. She scowled at Kate and Reynie. "How was your stupid high school?"

"It was strange," Reynie said. "Things are just… different, there."

"Why?"

"Nothing, no reason," Reynie said shiftily, avoiding her gaze. "The people."

Constance scrutinized him, brow slightly furrowed, then said triumphantly, "Ha! It's the girls!"

"Yeah, ha ha," Sticky said stiffly, hoping fervently that she wouldn't try to delve into his mind and disclose his secrets next. He tried to think of lettuce and not Cleo.

"What are you talking about?" asked Kate in an uncharacteristically sharp tone.

"Reynie's nervous because all these girls suddenly… like him?" Constance mimed sticking her finger down her throat and started hacking for effect. "That's disgusting! Girls liking Reynie?"

"Hey! I'm likeable," he said defensively. "Anyway, I'm more anxious about social things in general."

"Yeah, right," said Constance gleefully. "You're just thinking about how one girl said you were cute and now you can't figure out what it means and - "

"Stop it!" cried Reynie and Kate simultaneously. The former gave the latter a peculiar, searching look; she blushed and stared at the ground. "I'm going to go fix myself a sandwich," Reynie continued stoutly, "and Constance, you can just go read someone else's mind." He stormed off.

"Things are getting hormonal here," Rhonda said calmly, appearing behind them. "Our boys are growing up."

"No they aren't," snapped Kate. "Reynie's still the same person."

Connie smirked. "Kate Wetherall, are you trying to hide something from me too?"

Kate dodged her fixed stare. "Stay away, Connie-girl," she said warningly. "I'm gonna go find Madge and work on some of our new tricks." And with that, she too disappeared.

Constance looked bewildered, eliciting a small amount of pity from Sticky. He understood that it couldn't be easy being the youngest one in their group, and maybe it was unkind of him to be cold to her when she probably just wanted to fit in. Turning to her – he'd been resolutely facing the wall – he offered, "Constance, do you want to go get an ice cream with me?"

"I don't know… I'm really upset…" Constance said gloomily. She gazed up at Sticky, widening her eyes in what he had often heard being referred to as a "puppy dog look".

"I'm sorry, Constance," he said. "I know that - "

Suddenly her face split into a wide grin. "Who's Cleo?" she asked brightly, watching him. "What does that have to do with pottery? You're – why, Mr. President, you like a girl!"

Flaming red, Sticky yelled, "Constance! Enough is enough! You can't go around trying to invade our privacy all the time! Someday it's going to get you into big trouble! Why can't you be normal for once?"

Constance fell back like she'd been slapped. Looking legitimately hurt this time, she quieted. "Well then," she said, and walked up the stairs, tripping on her feet as usual.

**So what are your thoughts on this chapter? I thought that one of the conflicts in the story should be the fact that the older kids are growing up. They lived a sheltered and unorthodox life for a long time, and now poor Constance is stumbling to keep up with them. I think in the next few chapters some things will happen – perhaps we'll see more of Kate's jealousy, she might turn to someone for advice, and they'll make amends with Constance. How does that sound?**


	5. Chapter 6

**Kate**

Constance watched as Kate danced around outside, calling out commands to Madge, and slumped onto her bed. Kate looked happy and carefree, so why was she acting so harsh?

What she didn't understand was that things weren't always as they seemed. Kate, in fact, was upset. More than upset. She stroked Madge's feathers and murmured things to her, then told her, "Go back to the farm. I'm going to be here until dinner." The bird flew off in a cacophony of feathers and Kate tossed her gloves onto the ground. Sighing, she laid down in the grass and stared up at the sky. It was turning pink and gold, and she was startled, then dismayed, to discover she thought it was pretty.

Since when was pink an acceptable color? She tried to sort out the tumultuous thoughts in her mind, but the thing was, thoughts weren't the problems. No, feelings were. New feelings, for an old friend.

Reynie.

Why was _he _so special? She thought indignantly of Constance's looks at her. She was sure the little girl was picking up on something. And why in the world had she been so angry to find out that Reynie was thinking about other girls and not her?

"Kate?" It was Miss Perumal. She stepped outside. "Hey, is everything okay? We were looking for you."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Kate said hurriedly, getting up. "Sorry. Dinnertime?"

"Not yet." Miss Perumal tilted her head. "You sure you're okay?"

"Of course." Kate gave a small laugh. "I think I just need to process this whole high school thing."

"At least you have Reynie."

"Why do you say that?" Kate asked quickly. "I mean, yeah, I have him. Not _have_ him. I'm with him. Not like that. Oh, I'm so confused." She covered her face with her hands.

Miss Perumal gently took her hands. "Kate, is it just me or has something changed between you and Reynie?"

"Not on his end," Kate said miserably. They sat down on the stoop. "I don't know what's going on with me. I think about him a lot more, whenever I'm around him I get a feeling in my stomach, and I get viciously jealous whenever he talks about other girls. It's terrible. I don't know what's wrong with me and I just hate it."

"This is perfectly normal," said Miss Perumal soothingly. "You and Reynie have been close for a long time. He's the boy you've known the longest time, I believe. You and Sticky are buddies, but you and Reynie have always been the leaders."

"But I'm not normal!" wailed Kate. "I'm not supposed to be! I'm supposed to be fearless, like Milligan, and climb mountains and solve crimes and jump from airplanes!"

"And you can – wait, when have you jumped from an airplane?" asked Miss Perumal in alarm.

"Okay, I haven't, but it's a life-long dream," Kate admitted.

"That's very valid. Would that I had that much courage. I'm afraid if that happened I would make a huge fool of myself. Regardless – you're still the same person. You're just no longer a girl. You're becoming a young woman. Trust me, you have a long way to go, but frankly, it's surprising you've gone this long without experiencing attraction to anybody. And when and if that happens – if it's already happened – Reynie would be the most natural choice. He's an excellent, sweet, sensitive boy."

"I know he is. I know all that. I'm just so frustrated!"

"Oh, darling, I know," Miss Perumal said, giving her a sideways hug.

Just then, Reynie conveniently appeared. "Hey!" he said, smiling at the two of them. "We didn't know where you'd gone. Constance is sulking in her room and won't let anybody in. We thought maybe you could help."

"Sure." Kate hopped up, feeling her old self return, albeit slightly. Her stomach growled – at least, she thought wryly, her appetite hadn't changed. As for the rest, she'd figure it out. Just because feelings were changing didn't mean anything, right? She was still Kate Wetherall. As she and Reynie headed back inside, she asked brightly, "Can we eat soon?"

**That was probably an abrupt ending to this chapter, but I'm in this speed-writing mode. I may go back and edit/revise stuff later but I'm trying to make up for lost time, haha. Hope you're still liking the story!**


	6. Chapter 7

**Hey, so I realized that I haven't been spacing these right and they haven't been putting a space after every paragraph when I upload the chapters. Whoops! I think I fixed it this time, so sorry about that.**

**Sticky**

"No," said Constance stubbornly.

"Please come out. I know you're upset," said Mr. Benedict. He, Miss Perumal, Rhonda, Number Two, Sticky, Reynie, and Kate were gathered outside her door.

"No," repeated Constance.

"Constance, I'm sorry I yelled at you," said Sticky. "Although I can't help but feel that my point was a logical one and if you'd had the patience to wait around and hear me out, you might have been impressed by my reasoning."

Kate hit him in the head, making slashing motions against her throat. Constance started screaming incoherently, causing Sticky to wince.

"Nice try," Reynie said helpfully.

When Constance was done, Kate spoke up. "Listen, Connie-girl, I know you're angry that we – well, I'm not sure exactly what we did. But whatever it was, we're sorry, and we still need you to be part of the Society. So will you come out? Please?"

There was a long stretch of silence while everyone waited expectantly. Then the door slowly unlocked and there was the sound of furniture being dragged around. Finally, Constance opened the door, looking red and rather tear-stained. She sniffled once.

"Are we eating now?" she asked. They said yes, and Constance then proceeded to refuse her chicken and instead ate two and a half cherry pies for dinner. Everything was back to normal.

Sticky, for his part, felt horrible for yelling at Constance. Clearly, he was an incredibly kind and giving person at heart. The only problem was his voice of reason, which seemed to lord over everything he might be feeling. Particularly when it came to Cleo.

As difficult as things were for Kate and Reynie, they were possibly more difficult for Sticky. He was at a social disadvantage to begin with – he'd grown accustomed to being an outcast, he looked and talked quite conspicuously different than anybody else, and his nature was not a typical teenager's one. Not to mention that he was going to university with, basically, grown ups, and his intelligence was evident and not universally-accepted.

To add a girl to the mix was almost unfair. He picked at his dinner, thinking about Cleo. She was just so warm, so nice, with her round hazel eyes and thick russet hair…

"Sticky?" asked Reynie questioningly. "Sticky! Mr. Benedict just asked you a question."

Sticky started, then blushed. "Sorry. What was it?"

Mr. Benedict chuckled. "I was going to ask how your first day went. You're clearly distracted – is that a good or a bad sign?"

Constance cleared her throat. Sticky looked at her – was she going to disclose the details she'd picked up in reading him? She gave him a slight shake of her head, and, showing unexpected maturity, asked, "May I be excused?"

Number Two squealed in delight. "I've been trying to get her to say that since she got here!" she explained to the others around the table. "I'm so proud of you, Constance."

"Don't be," Constance said, compensating for her momentary politeness. "You can thank me later," she added in an undertone to Sticky, who now understood in a rush of gratitude that she was preventing herself from blurting something out. He couldn't help but feel touched.

"My day was… good," he said. Reynie and Kate smiled at each other; he had filled her in on Sticky's incident with Cleo, but they'd agreed not to talk about it to adults who, while caring, might end up asking embarrassing and invasive questions.

"How were the classes?"

"Easy," he said. "I know more than some of the seniors in my history course."

"I can't say I'm surprised." Mr. Benedict turned to Reynie and Kate. "And you two! I'm curious to know, how did Kate function in a public school setting?"

Reynie looked at her. "I think she did no better or worse than one would expect someone like Kate to do," he said carefully.

"Oh, stop being so diplomatic," Kate said, shoving him playfully on the shoulder. Laughing, he returned to his dessert, leaving the rest of the adults to make small talk.

When the children – or teenagers, now – cleared away the dishes, Sticky asked quietly, "Thanks for not mentioning Cleo."

"No problem," Reynie said. "I think we satisfied Mr. Benedict just by coming home safely and not doing anything crazy to necessitate federal involvement."

"How _was_ your first day, though?" asked Kate curiously. "Aside from Cleo."

"It was… bad," confessed Sticky. "I stick out like a sore thumb. I don't have social skills. I know that now. You guys are just more accepting and open-minded than others."

"Come on, Sticky," said Reynie reproachfully. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Maybe. Maybe I'm making it up in my mind. I just hope tomorrow is better than today."

"I'm sure it will be," said Kate reassuringly.

Unfortunately, it wasn't.

**Okay, that was probably kind of a depressing ending. I think that when they return to school, Kate will get into some sort of run-in with the girls flirting with Reynie, Sticky will get himself into a, well, sticky situation, and I don't know about Constance yet.**

**I actually think I had already written a lot more in this fic awhile ago, but I lost the document on my computer! So this isn't going in the direction I originally planned, but I really hope you guys still like it. Review! **


	7. Chapter 8

**Kate**

Needless to say, Kate was not looking forward to the next day. She absolutely despised the feelings she was getting of distinct not-Kate-ness, but didn't know how to prevent it. And so she kept up a façade of normalcy, sneaking into the boys' rooms – they oftentimes preferred to stay at Mr. Benedict's, and as a result had their own bedrooms there – and hanging out with Moochos and Milligan.

When morning came, however, she was atypically grumpy and resistant to going to school.

"I'm nervous too," Reynie told her over cereal. "But I'm sure everything will be fine. You'll fit in soon enough."

"I don't need to fit in," grumbled Kate, stabbing a Cheerio viciously with a butter knife. Reynie looked confused and affronted at this reaction.

They got into the car and drove to the high school in silence, dropping off an anxiously babbling and spectacle-polishing Sticky first. Kate and Reynie walked through the double doors quietly and stood at the edges of the before-school crowd. Somehow, they got separated, and Kate found herself next to the girls who'd approached Reynie earlier.

"Hi!" said one of them brightly. Sophie, was it? "You're Kate, right?"

"Yes," said Kate curtly. Then, thinking that she shouldn't be quite so rude, added a mollifying, "Nice to see you again."

"You too! Your hair is so gorgeous, by the way. Is it naturally wavy?"

"Um… yeah?" Kate was extremely thrown off by this comment.

"It's so cute." She smiled warmly – her friendliness and bubbly personality, Kate had to admit, seemed genuine and free of ulterior motives. That is, until she asked, "You know that new guy, right? Reynie?"

"Yeah," said Kate cautiously.

"He's _so_ cute," she said. "Tell me about him!"

"Like what about him?" asked Kate, confused.

"Oh, you know. Meg, Chloe, come over here!" She waved her friends over and sat down at a cafeteria table, patting the spot next to her. "Kate's going to tell us about Reynie."

"Ooh, yeah, we were wondering!" said Meg excitedly, leaning in. "There aren't any cute guys here, so when one comes we get really excited. Plus he seems kind of mysterious. He's quiet, isn't he?"

Kate shut her eyes for a moment. This was a situation she'd never anticipated. "Kind of quiet, yeah," she said shortly.

"How do you know him?"

"Oh, we're friends. We, uh, were home-schooled together until now."

"That would explain why he seemed so surprised when we talked to him," giggled Chloe, tossing her red hair and flicking a hair elastic around it.

"So what else should we know about him? What's he like? Is he nice?" pressed Sophie.

"I…" Kate sighed, and without thinking began to talk rapidly. "He's nice. He's really smart and kind and giving. And he's stronger than you'd think, and brave, and just so intelligent. He's logical and level-headed and –" She broke off, realizing she was saying way too much for her own comfort.

"Wow. He seems like a really great guy."

"Yeah, he is," said Kate softly. "He's my best friend."

"But you wouldn't mind if, say, I asked him out?" asked Meg. "I wouldn't do anything without your permission, of course. But from what I see, you guys are like brother and sister, right?"

"You can ask him out," Kate said bluntly. "Excuse me." And with that, she got up and left to find Reynie.

She didn't see him until halfway through lunch time. They'd initially agreed to eat together, but he never showed up at their designated meeting spot. When she finally spotted him across the room, she felt a mixture of anger and relief and the same unnameable swooping in her stomach that made her feel all tingly.

"Hey, Reynie!" she called, hurrying over. To her dismay, as she got closer she realized that he was with Meg, Chloe, Sophie, and some other girls. A couple guys, too, but they gave her one disdainful look, glanced at her bucket, and returned to their conversation. Flushing, Kate stood hesitantly there, waiting to see if Reynie would respond.

"Hi, Kate," he said warily. "I don't know if there's room…"

"Oh, no, sit down next to me," urged Sophie, smiling. "Everyone, this is Kate. She's new here as well. Say hi!"

"Hi," said a couple of girls, then turned their backs on her.

"They're kind of snobby, it's okay," said Sophie in an undertone. Out loud she tapped Reynie flirtatiously on the shoulder and, smiling, asked, "Are you free tonight?"

"Am I – what?"

"You're so cute! Are you free tonight? Like, do you have plans?"

"No," said Reynie. "I'm free."

"Cool. Would you like to hang out? We could walk into town at some point and then go hang at my house."

"Who else will be there?" he asked cautiously.

Sophie laughed. "No bad guys, I promise. Um, well, I was thinking it could be just us if that's cool with you. Or we could see who else wants to come."

"No, that's fine," he said quickly, smiling back at her. Kate felt a hot, itchy feeling seep up to her face. "I'd love that."

"It's a plan. I'll text you at the end of school and we can meet up."

"Awesome." _Awesome? _Since when was Reynie the type of person to say something was 'awesome'?

"I can't wait." She jumped up and tossed her empty Styrofoam tray into the trash can. "I have to go study in the library. Wanna come? I hear you're really smart."

Surprised but pleased, Reynie agreed. "Sure. I can help." He gave an uncertain look at Kate. "Do you want to join us, or…?"

"No, no, it's fine," she said through gritted teeth, getting up. "I've got to go do something."

"Oh, alright," said Reynie, giving her a curious look.

"See ya!" said Sophie cheerily as they walked off.

Kate stonily got up, walked outside, and started punching the tree she'd climbed on her first day. She punched it until her knuckles felt numb and raw – thankfully, she did have exceptional strength and didn't break anything – and then, as hard as she tried to stop it, sank to the ground with her knees pulled up to her chest and cried.

**Okay, so this chapter was pretty angsty, I know. I do love a bit of good angst and I have a habit of getting off track and making characters unnecessarily so. However, I think the next chapter should hopefully even it out and I think the main point of this chapter was to show Kate's emotional side. She's not an invincible lioness anymore; she's vulnerable to feelings as well. Normally those feelings are positive ones, and are magnified – strength, courage, fearlessness – but that also means that negative ones – jealousy, envy, sadness – are magnified as well.**

**Anyway, review and let me know what you want to see next! Thanks guys.**


	8. Chapter 9

**I just wanted to take a moment to thank everybody for their wonderful reviews. This story doesn't have a lot of attention, I think because this isn't a well-known series, but I do appreciate the people who have subscribed and the handful of you that are reviewing. Thank you, thank you, thank you. **

**Enjoy this chapter!**

**Reynie**

Reynie ended up "hanging out" with Sophie after school. When he telephoned Miss Perumal to tell her the news, she became unexpectedly emotional and told him that she was "proud but not surprised" that he was getting on so well with his peers, adding that Sophie sounded like a very nice girl. He hung up feeling quite apprehensive about their – well, not _date_, per se, but she did happen to be a girl and in his short time being exposed to the operations of teenage life, this could turn out not to be as "just friends".

He had no idea, though, and persevered through the day, producing his typical work and impressing his new teachers, who had already identified him as their most conscientious student. Being Reynie, of course, he was nothing if not modest and remained oblivious to their high praises.

Aside from his very natural trepidation throughout the day, something else nagged at his brain. _Someone_ else.

Why had Kate appeared so upset when she saw him interacting with other people? Was it because she was struggling in making other friends? She was happy for him, right? Regardless, there was definitely something there.

She was a complete and utter fool, Reynie thought privately, if she believed he couldn't read her like a book. He may not have Constance's talent, but Kate, well… she had always been there. She was his first true best friend, and as different as they were he felt deeply attached to her. Through all their escapades he had only felt the fondness grow, and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her.

This was a difficult task to manage, however, when she didn't tell him why she was upset. But after all, he reasoned, he had not attempted to ask her. He was still thrown off by her whatever it was – anger? hurt? – and above all most certainly did _not_ want to lose her friendship by being overly intrusive.

The fact that Kate Wetherall – kind, easygoing, fun Kate Wetherall – was so upset was strange in itself, and rather unsettling. Not in the way that the Ten Men were unsettling. Not in a sinister way. Just… confusing.

Putting those misgivings aside, he nervously ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at the hem of his polo shirt as the last bell rang. People began pouring out of the classroom and he tried desperately to go with the flow of traffic and not get crushed. This was a skill that it seemed he would have to acquire over time. Thankfully, Sophie was waiting right outside the door for him and, with a cheerful smile and wink, said, "Hello!"

Somehow this put Reynie at ease, if only for the time being. If he was going to make friends, then he might as well focus on it now. He felt his anxiety disappear and joined her, walking over to her locker so she could grab the books she needed for that night's homework. It turned out that Sophie was quite as ambitious as Reynie in academics, and was already planning to go to a high-level, possibly Ivy League university. She was even attempting to graduate early so that she might get a head start in launching a career – but, as she told Reynie ruefully, her parents were adamant that she not overwork herself. Reynie found this quite admirable.

Not to mention that throughout their time together, he started to really like Sophie.

She wasn't like any girls he'd met before, which wasn't a particularly radical statement, seeing as the only people of the female gender that he associated with on a regular basis were either grown-ups or "gifted" (a massive understatement) children. Still, something about her personality was just plain appealing.

They walked around town, and it suddenly seemed as if he'd never been there before. She talked happily of school and her family and listened intently whenever he was talking. For Reynie, resigned to being the misfit among other kids, this was refreshing, gratifying, and flattering all at once. While he disliked her friends – they seemed fake, lacking personalities – he genuinely enjoyed her company. In fact, he was shocked when he received a phone call from a concerned Miss Perumal, wanting to know where in the world he was because night was falling.

"The time went by really fast, didn't it?" said Sophie, smiling at him. "We'll have to do this again."

"Definitely," said Reynie, and meant it with all his heart. "I'm sorry that I have to go."

"Oh, it's fine," she said, waving him off. "I'll just call my older brother. He wants to meet you. Hey, he can give you a ride home if you'd like!"

Taken aback – he'd never been "given a ride home" – Reynie blurted, "That would be great!"

"Cool." She beamed and took out her cell phone. "Just a sec."

He watched her walk over to a small bench at the corner of the block and felt a vague fluttering in the pit of his stomach. Although he was the last person to judge anyone on their looks, he had to admit to himself that he found her positively lovely. Something about her personality, her sparkly eyes, her shiny hair, and the way she walked and talked struck him. He was so caught up in these unfamiliar thoughts and feelings that he barely noticed his phone ringing, and picked it up only in the nick of time. It was Kate.

"Hi," he said.

"Oh, uh, hi. Reynie. Where are you?"

"Still with Sophie. Actually, can you tell Miss Perumal that her brother is dropping me off at Mr. Benedict's?"

"Um… okay." She sounded hesitant, then anxiously asked, "Are you staying the night again?"

Reynie consulted his watch. "Probably. It's too late to drive now. How's Sticky doing?"

"Ugh, he's been moping around because he thinks he embarrassed himself in front of this Cleo character." She paused. "As much as I love teasing him, I kind of feel bad. I might have to have a talk with her."

Reynie laughed. Leave it to Kate to put Sticky's feelings and romantic aspirations before her own desire to make fun of him. She was such a… great person. Quickly putting those thoughts away – somehow he felt like they were hypocritical, or wrong, with Sophie right there – he said, "Don't worry. I'll try to talk to him tonight."

"Good. I think I might hurt more than help in this situation."

Before he could stop himself, Reynie quickly said, "Oh, no, you're perfect."

"What?"

Shaking his head and wondering what in the world was wrong with him today, he sighed. "I have to go. I'm sorry, Kate. I'll see you at home." He hung up before she could respond.

Why should he care about talking to her while he was with Sophie? Kate was always there. _Always_ there. Abruptly, he started remembering things. All the laughs they'd had, the many times Sticky and Constance looked to the two of them for guidance, the times she'd saved their lives with her heroic bucket…

"Hey, he'll be here in a couple minutes," Sophie said, walking over to him.

He jumped slightly, then managed a smile. She made him feel at ease; just looking at her calmed his mind. "Listen, I really appreciate you doing this. I didn't know what life would be like, you know, being around other teenagers, and to tell the truth I didn't want to know. But now I think I'm starting to like it. A lot."

"Aw!" She looked up at him, then a little shyly leaned over and wrapped her arms around his waist. Startled, he didn't return the hug at first – he wasn't a physically affectionate person by nature, and the types of hugs he received tended to almost break his ribs or get tears all over his shoulders – but then instinctively put his arms around her as well. She was gentle, not aggressive, and looked up at him so directly. Why did he feel like his heart was beating way too fast?

They broke apart after just a moment, but Reynie's mind was, once again, going crazy.

Thankfully, her brother – he introduced himself as "Theodore, but I hate it, so call me Ted, but not Teddy" – pulled up to the curb shortly. He opened the car door for Sophie to ride shotgun, cracking a few carefree jokes. Then he asked Reynie for directions, commenting that he'd always found that area charming, and continued to make conversation. He was just as friendly as Sophie, if not more so. Before Reynie knew it, they'd arrived at their street and he was getting out of the car. Sophie beamed at him.

"Bye!" she called. "See you in school tomorrow!"

"Yeah, see you," said Reynie as the car drove away. He stood still, gathering his thoughts, then sprinted up the front walk and let himself in.

Everyone had already been seated for dinner. He paused, peering into the dining room, which was lit with a soft yellow light. The adults were talking and laughing, Sticky was bickering with Constance over the last baked potato, and Kate was… well, Kate was plowing into her plate with gusto. As he watched, she noticed him and a grin split her face. He laughed; she had jelly on the corner of her mouth, and he felt a sudden urge to wipe it off for her. Dismissing that compulsion, he waved at her.

"Come on!" she said, patting the empty chair next to her. And he went.


	9. Chapter 10

**So I read your reviews, and I absolutely love the ideas, so I'm incorporating them into this chapter.**

**Kate**

Kate remained carefully civil towards both Reynie and Sophie the rest of the week. If she found herself in a situation with both at the same time, she politely excused herself, usually to go punch a wall or scream in the faculty bathroom, which had a very pick-able lock and was much nicer than the girls' rooms. It was no secret that Sophie and Reynie were hitting it off immensely well – and Kate had to admit, they made a handsome pair. Grudgingly she found herself beginning to like the girl, against her own will. It is extremely difficult to dislike someone who exudes kindness and warmth – especially when you yourself possess similar qualities.

This drove her to a level of frustration she'd rarely felt before, and most certainly not in such a situation as this. Miss Perumal shot Kate infuriatingly empathetic looks whenever the topic of Sophie was brought up. Instead of making Kate feel any better at all, it only inflamed things, for having someone on her side was almost worse than being alone. She was _supposed_ to be standing on her own two feet!

One evening the weekend after school began, Milligan, who was generally busy working out on the farm or on short stints of secret government operations, and Kate were relaxing on the front porch of Mr. Benedict's house. Number Two and Rhonda had recently acquired a swinging bench under the agreement that no, Constance could not go on it without adult supervision and yes, Kate was allowed, but only if she didn't unscrew anything.

Dusk was falling and the two of them were peacefully swinging, each chewing on apples. Kate was on her eighth when Milligan spoke up.

"What's the matter, Katie-cat?" he asked. "You're quieter than usual."

"I'm – what? I'm not. I'm fine," she insisted.

"Are things alright at school? You know, I told Nicholas that it might be too soon for you. You aren't Reynie, after all."

_Reynie. _Well, _he_ was certainly hitting it off with every aspect of public school. Even if he wasn't the most popular guy – yet – it was barely the first grading quarter and he basically had a girlfriend.

Milligan was still staring at her intently. "Are you fighting with the boys?"

"No," she said shortly, standing up and stretching. "Everything's fine."

"Okay," he said, clearly hesitant to drop the subject. If Kate made up her mind not to disclose any information, then he knew that he sure as heck wouldn't be able to get anything out of her. Instead, he helped her gather up their apple cores in silence and take them into the kitchen. Kate announced that she was feeling a little tired and wanted to go to sleep; Sticky and Reynie were congregated in one or the other's room, and Constance was having a discussion with Mr. Benedict.

As she slowly trudged up the stairs, Milligan turned to find Miss Perumal watching with a sad expression in her eyes.

"Oh, Kate," she murmured.

"What is it?" asked Milligan immediately. "Did someone do something to her?"

Miss Perumal gave him a look that made him feel rather foolish. "Of course not," she said, "but she's having some difficulties."

"Well, what is it?" Milligan said quickly. "What can I do to help?"

Miss Perumal smiled at him. He was so clearly fond of his daughter – really, he adored her – and it always blew her away how swiftly he'd come to her rescue. "I'm afraid there's nothing you can do." She paused. "Kate's 'affliction' isn't something easily remedied."

"Is she sick?"

Sighing in affectionate exasperation, Miss Perumal motioned for him to take a seat. She took the kettle from the stove and retrieved two mugs, pouring them each a cup of tea. He obliged and drank, thanking her.

"Kate is such an intelligent young lady," Miss Perumal began. "She's very clear-headed, rational, and has a heart of gold."

"I know all that," said Milligan impatiently. "Just tell me."

"Well," said Miss Perumal delicately, "Kate and Reynie have been close friends for a good while now, and it's only natural now."

"Are you saying they're… fighting?"

"Goodness, no! No, Milligan," Miss Perumal said, "Kate likes Reynie." She looked expectantly at him.

"I know that already! They've been good friends, like you said. What does Reynie have to do with Kate's quietness?"

"I'm afraid you don't understand what I'm saying. Kate _likes_ Reynie. She – she has a crush on him."

"_What?_" Milligan almost dropped his cup in astonishment. "You mean she's _in love_ with him?"

"Not yet," said Miss Perumal, smiling faintly. "It's just a crush, and seeing him so happy with Sophie all the time only makes it worse. That's why. There's your answer. And Milligan – you can _not_ let Kate even suspect that I've told you this."

Dumbfounded, Milligan knotted his brow, trying to process this statement. Kate _liked_ Reynie? As more than a friend? Reynie was a nice enough fellow, but good enough for his Katie-cat? Definitely not.

While he didn't understand the attraction, he loved his daughter and valued her happiness so dearly – particularly since he'd been gone for so much of her life – that he made up his mind instantly to do whatever he must to make her happy. If being with Reynie was so integral to her wellbeing, if that would bring the old Kate back, then he'd just have to learn about matters of the heart and apply them in the same manner in which he always studied various writings prior to embarking on a secret operation. Besides, Kate and Reynie were only teenagers, and according to Miss Perumal this was "just a crush". How hard could it be?


	10. Chapter 11

**Yeah, sorry, I was totally not thinking straight when I thought of Milligan/Miss Perumal. If it's any excuse, I just went 24 hours without sleep (I was traveling), but I slept 14 hours last night so it's all good haha.**

**Anyway, I'm planning that something sinister is going to happen, so we'll just see!**

**Sticky**

Sticky was still, unfortunately, going through his own romantic woes.

"You're lucky you and Sophie are so close," he said wistfully as they sat on the floor of Reynie's room. Reynie grinned. "Nothing good is going to happen with Cleo and I, I just _know_ it!"

"Don't say that," Reynie said quickly. "You never know. Honestly, I thought nothing good would come of going to school and look where I am now! Sophie and I are practically… well, I don't know. Things aren't particularly 'official' between us." A thought hit him and he blanched. "Sticky – do you think she's waiting for _me_ to ask her on a date?"

"I don't know," Sticky said gloomily. "Nothing I've read has even touched upon this topic – although with my last girlfriend, I was indeed the one to 'ask her out'."

"See? You've at least had a girlfriend already. I don't know what to do with Sophie. I like her, a lot, but do I just treat her like a friend?"

"_Please _stop complaining," said Constance, who had snuck through the door without them noticing her.

Sticky jumped. "Constance! Why in the world are you up here?"

She came and sat down next to them, stared at her legs, then shrugged. Although she'd grown up a good deal, she still couldn't figure out how to cross them. "I've just seen Milligan," she began, "and he had the look."

"Uh oh," said Reynie. Milligan's "look" was something that the Society had learned to identify in the past year or so. It was a determined, steadfast, rather formidable expression that crossed his face whenever he was coming – or had come to – a resolute decision. Usually it cropped up whenever he had a new secret mission.

"Did it last long?" asked Sticky in a quavering voice. You see, he lacked self confidence so much in comparison to Milligan that the mere thought of him going off and doing something probably reckless and dangerous frightened him to no end.

"I don't know," said Constance, beginning to root around in Reynie's bottom drawer for candy. "What's this?" she asked, holding it up.

"Lollipop," he said casually, then realized that she was not to go through their drawers, much less obtain sweets, and grabbed for it. She'd already popped it into her mouth, though, and smirked at him. He gave her a stern look, then sighed and asked, "Well, didn't you get a feeling for it?"

"What, you mean read his mind?"

The boys both nodded.

"I suppose I could've done that," she mused, sucking loudly on her lollipop and smearing red dye all over her mouth. "He was walking too fast, though, and I only saw sort of a... image. I don't know how to describe it." She made a noise of frustration, as she always did when she couldn't put words to the picture in her head.

"It's okay," Reynie said soothingly. "Did you glean anything from it?"

She gave him a dirty look. "I'm _fine_, and it was confusing."

Sticky's face lit up. "Is it a riddle?" he asked eagerly.

"No," snapped Constance. "Okay, Mr. Benedict hasn't taught me what or why this happens, but sometimes, when I don't even mean to read someone, I still see what they're thinking, just in quick images, like a slideshow. I think it happens depending on the intensity of their thoughts or feelings or whatever." She waved a hand, dismissing foolish things like thoughts and feelings. "So when I saw Milligan, I saw a picture of Kate climbing that tree and then a – a heart, or something? Something awful and pink… and then I saw the back of a boy's head, but I didn't know who it was. And then Madge diving down from the sky and Moochos Brazos swinging something or someone around."

"And then?" asked Sticky.

"_Then _Miss Perumal came up to ask why I wasn't in bed and I was busy."

"You don't need to say it in that hurtful tone," said Sticky defensively. "Why do you always do that to me? Reynie, why does Constance –"

"I don't know," said Reynie, distracted. "Did you say you saw Kate's face?"

Constance nodded, then held out the lollipop stick. "I'm done."

"For the hundredth time, I'm not going to throw away your trash," he said in exasperation. "Tell me what you saw again."

"I'm sure it was nothing," she insisted, reaching for his dresser drawer again, but he slammed it shut.

"You're not getting anything else out of me," he said.

"Where _is_ Kate, anyway?" asked Sticky. "I feel like I haven't seen her in ages."

As if on cue, the floor creaked and as they ran to peek out, a blond ponytail disappeared around the corner. Reynie automatically started to walk after it, followed by Sticky. Constance weighed the options: she could ransack their room for more candy, or go with them to interrogate their strangely silent friend, and chose the former.

"Kate!" Reynie said as she lassoed the top post of the above landing and pulled herself up in under a second. At Reynie's call, she spun around. He headed up the stairs towards her and, panting, reached the same landing about 30 seconds later.

"Oh, hi, boys," she said warily.

"Where are you?" asked Sticky. "I mean, obviously you're here. But where have you been? Why aren't you talking to us? Are you mad at me?"

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Of course I'm not mad at you. I've just been tired."

"Oh. Okay. Well, why don't you join us in our room?" asked Sticky.

"I'm about to go to bed, actually," she said. "But thanks for the invite. I'll see you guys tomorrow at breakfast."

"At breakfast?" Reynie asked, somewhat dismayed. Kate had had a habit of jumping from the ceiling into his room to wake him up hours before breakfast and they would go and explore around the house together, but she hadn't done that in what felt like forever. Why not? What had alienated her?

She cast him a peculiar, hard-to-read look – it was dark, after all – and, shaking her head, waved at both of them and disappeared to her room.

"I'm so fumbling with girls, I'll liable to fall in love with Kate next," said Sticky, feebly trying to crack a joke (this was, in fact, an improvement on the old Sticky who didn't know appear to know what a joke was).

At this, Reynie, who'd been staring into space and mulling over the reasons for Kate to be ignoring him, jumped and said sharply, "What?"

"I'm just joking," said Sticky. "Oh dear… that wasn't very funny, was it."

"What? No, no, but are you serious?"

"Of course not," Sticky said, sighing. He knew he would never make it as a comedian, but couldn't help feeling that if Cleo was going to ever like him, he had to get this whole humor thing down. When Reynie didn't respond, he elaborated, "She's like my sister. I think we're best friends. Or friends. I don't really know."

"Oh, yeah, she's like my sister too," said Reynie quickly. "Here, let's go back to my room."

Sticky followed morosely, and they returned to Reynie's room to find the dresser drawers hanging open and the floor littered in glittery candy wrappers.

**So what do you think? I'm going to stick some more Sticky/Cleo into the next chapter, but as this is a primarily Kaynie fic I'm obviously going to focus more on that relationship. I have some action – well, not action **_**yet**_**, but new villain (sneak peek: it looks like one of Milligan's old enemies hasn't yet exited the picture, or at least his legacy hasn't) planned in the following chapters. Thank you for your reviews and support, and please do let me know what you think of it, what you want to see happen next, etc. as always.**


	11. Chapter 12

**Reynie**

Over the next couple of days, Kate seemed to come back. She resumed hanging out with the boys, teaching Madge tricks, and being loud and rowdy when she was told not to be. Her odd behavior at school lingered, however, which Reynie found mystifying.

Granted, he had a whole new circle of friends, at least when he was in high school. He had an inkling that somehow, for whatever reason, usually-not-jealous Kate was… jealous. It was understandable; they had been best friends for awhile, and seeing him gain new ones couldn't be easy. Still, there was no reason for her to feel replaced or uncomfortable, and Reynie struggled with himself about this. Just because things were going well with Sophie didn't mean he disliked Kate. There was no way he could think of to express these feelings to her and explain that she was always going to be his closest, dearest friend and he would always maintain the same opinion of her, as much as he wished he could. And so he simply tried to accept that she would never be able to be around him when he was with Sophie.

This was a fact over which Sophie also expressed confusion. They were getting ice cream one day in town and she said, "I don't understand Kate."

"What about her?" asked Reynie, reading over the list of flavors.

Sophie scrunched up her nose in thought, a habit that she had when she was thinking. "I guess… she's so nice, and I absolutely _love_ her, but every time I start feeling like maybe we're friends, she gets weird when you come along. I mean, you probably haven't noticed, but I really don't get it. Maybe I'm being crazy. I don't know." She shook her head.

"No, I've noticed it too," agreed Reynie. "She's been the same way with me. I don't know why."

"Well, whatever it is, I hope she doesn't hate me for some reason."

Reynie laughed at this. "The thought of someone hating you is absurd," he told her matter-of-factly. "Anyway, I –"

Sophie tugged at his hand. He stopped talking. "Don't look, but someone's staring at us," she whispered. "Don't look, don't look, don't look!" she hissed as Reynie started to crane his neck. "Sorry, it just creeps me out when – can I have a small mint chip in a waffle cone, please?" she asked brightly, as they'd just made it to the head of the line.

Reynie placed his order too – a small pistachio in a cup – and when he turned to grab a plastic spoon, a girl was indeed staring at him. He flinched; she was watching him so intently that it made him extremely self-conscious, and he cautiously took in her appearance. She was tall, broad-shouldered, and had piercing dark blue eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, she realized they were making eye contact and, starting slightly, swiftly left the parlor.

"Did you see her?" asked Sophie, joining him and reaching for the hot fudge sauce. "Creepy, right?"

"She was," Reynie concurred. Why did she look somehow… familiar? As if he'd met her long ago, or perhaps someone associated with her.

"And did you see her _hair?_"

"No, what was wrong with it?"

"Wrong with it?" Sophie said through a mouthful of ice cream. "There was nothing _wrong_ with it. It was so freaking _perfect_."

Wondering privately what "perfect" hair entailed, and wondering vaguely if he had it, Reynie only nodded.

"I haven't seen her before, either," continued Sophie as they headed out to the green in the center of town, catching a spare drip on her cone with her tongue. "Maybe she's new!"

Reynie, who found the prospect of new girls much less intriguing than Sophie, nodded again.

"Am I boring you or something?" she asked, sitting down next to him in the grass. "You're quiet today."

"Sorry, I'm just trying to figure out why that girl looked familiar."

Sophie's eyes widened. "Do you know her?" she asked eagerly. "What's her name?" She paused, then laughed. "Sorry I'm so nosy. I've lived here too long, so every time someone new comes along I get super excited and start interrogating either them or anyone who has information on them."

"It's fine," said Reynie, smiling. He felt badly that he wasn't as talkative or interesting as usual. She was so lively and cheerful that he would sometimes rather listen to her chatter away, just because he privately found her voice so sweet.

She looked over at him, her eyes sparkling, and said, "I'm really glad you came here, you know. It's so weird that you lived here all along and we never once ran into each other."

"I know," agreed Reynie, then shyly added, "I wish I'd met you earlier."

She blushed slightly and said, "Me too."

Then it was silent, but a comfortable silence. The weather at this time of year was very pleasant – more so than that of most other places – and the sun was bathing everything in golden light. Reynie looked at Sophie, who was now concentrated on preventing her cone from dripping all over her shirt. A lock of hair fell out of her neat side braid, and she swiped it away in one smooth motion.

Remembering his conversation with Sticky, Reynie felt a tug in his chest. What if this was all just friendship? What if he asked her out, and she said no? But then again, he couldn't stand to lose her at this point. Not to one of the other guys, one of the jocks.

"So where do you think you know that girl from?" Sophie said presently.

"No idea."

She shrugged and squinted into the sun, then turned and grinned at him, shifting closer, and he felt his heartbeat accelerate. Sticky had said that _he _was the one to ask the girl out. That was the way it was supposed to be. That's how it would have to happen.

For a brief instant, Kate's face flashed in his head: she was so passionate about everything, so excited to learn new things and go to new places. He was tremendously fond of her, but the way he felt about Sophie was different. It felt tingly and exhilarating and bubbly in the pit of his stomach and…

Forgetting about everything for the moment, Reynie blurted out, "Would you like to go out with me?"

**So there it is. We'll have to see what happens next, but I'll tell you right now that the girl staring at them was no ordinary – or necessarily innocent – character. Thanks for reading! Review!**


	12. Chapter 13

**Thank you thank you thank you! I'm so grateful to have you followers! Incidentally, if you want to read more of my, well, not work, per se, but my writing – check out my other fics (if you follow either of the TV shows, or How I Met Your Mother as I'm going to start one soon) – and here's my blog: I generally just post the random thoughts going through my mind on here. It's kind of a party since nobody reads it.**

**And after that little indulgent self-promotion, here we go.**

**Kate**

Kate came home, whistling, and bounded through the door. She had just attended a most splendidly successful training session with Madge in the back yard, and the overwhelming, motherly pride she felt had put her in a very good mood indeed. Unfortunately, her adrenaline rush was cut short as she was forced to halt in the midst of her jubilant entrance.

Mr. Benedict, Rhonda, Miss Perumal, Milligan, and Number Two were standing there, looking supremely upset. She heard murmuring from the other room; whatever it was, the others had already gotten the news. Feeling no need to hear the adults' version of it, she tried to skirt around them, but they blocked her path. Frustrated, she turned to her father, who looked more serious than ever.

"I'm putting my mission for Kate and that boy on hold for this," Milligan told Miss Perumal out of the corner of his mouth. She looked relieved.

Figuring that there was no way out, Kate asked urgently, "What happened?"

"Will you assure us that if we back away, you will sit still – well, not still, of course, but your version of it – and listen to us?" Mr. Benedict asked somberly. He was wearing a very dark plaid suit today.

"Um, okay," replied Kate, perplexed.

"Alright." The adults exchanged knowing looks, then led her into the dining room. All the shades were down. She took a seat, apprehensively tugging at her bucket. As if he could read her mind, Mr. Benedict said,

"You won't need anything from there, I promise."

Her worries only marginally eased, Kate asked again, "What happened?"

"You remember Mr. Curtain's Ten Men, of course," said Mr. Benedict.

"Yes, obviously," snapped Kate. How could she not?

"Do you recall the, ah, leader?"

She did. He was a big man with massive shoulders, frightening blue eyes, and perfectly coifed hair. "You mean McCracken?"

"Correct."

"What about him?" she pressed. "Is he back? I thought the Ten Men were put in custody!"

"The Ten Men were. Unfortunately, their families were not."

"They don't have families." Kate laughed at the absurdity of, say, Crawlings marrying someone and having children together. _Daddy, daddy, what did you do today?_

_Oh, you know, I just tortured that bothersome Benedict Society into insanity again. We're planning to kill them, you know. Isn't that wonderful?_

"It turns out that one of them do. And, unluckily, McCracken is the one."

"_What?_ You're kidding, right?"

"I'm afraid I'm not. The situation is… unsettling. We have no proof that his daughter – we know he has a daughter, though we don't know her name – is aiming to carry out any sinister plans. We have no information on whether or not his wife is here. To our knowledge, McCracken is still locked up, but nothing is certain."

"But – but why is she _here?_" cried Kate. "Why _here_, of all places?"

"We don't know," said Miss Perumal, "which is why we're being very careful."

"So… does this mean we're not allowed to leave the house anymore?" asked Kate instantly.

"Yes, and it means you can't attempt to break out either," added Milligan. "I'm the new, full-time bodyguard. If you have to leave – and we are not so cruel as to disallow you to get fresh air from time to time – it will be with me.

"But what about… school?" Kate asked. Not that she enjoyed school at all, but it was something to do, and as much as she resented Sophie, she _did_ like being around other people. Plus, if Reynie was happy with his basically-a-girlfriend, Kate was all for it. Well, maybe not all. She supported their relationship half-heartedly. At any rate, being quarantined in the house was the last thing she wanted to do.

"We've already told the school board that due to unforeseen engagements, your attendance will be put on hold for the time being. They're a good school, and know not to be nosy."

A feeling of dread was spreading in Kate's chest. As much as school had been a pain, the thought of being alone, inside, with Reynie, all day… "Will Rey – will we be, um, able to talk to people outside of here?" she asked anxiously.

Rhonda and Miss Perumal exchanged quick looks as Mr. Benedict answered. "For now, no. I assure you, this is probably a complete false alarm, and it's likely that everything is fine. But we can't risk the small chance that it's not, and so this is the way it has to be, for awhile at least."

"Okay," said Kate quietly. "Can I go now?"

Mr. Benedict looked torn. After a swift glance at Milligan, who gave a curt nod, he spoke up. "Kate?"

She spun around, hand automatically on her bucket. "Yes?"

"If you can prove that you are able to manage this, ah, confinement… there is a possibility that we might find opportunities in which to employ your – the Society's – skills in pursuing Miss McCracken."

Her face lit up. "You mean we'll get to follow her? Maybe jump off some buildings, confront some bad guys, solve some mysteries, climb a mountain or two and escape down the side of it…"

Mr. Benedict laughed; Number Two instinctively reached to catch him, only this time there was no need. She settled back, looking very happy.

"No, I hate to break it to you, but those talents and ambitions, while admirable, are not ones that I think will be necessary to apply to this situation. At most, we'll instruct you and the two boys – primarily Reynie – to keep an eye out on her at school. This is because we are assuming that she will attend a public high school so as to throw off suspicion. But you must absolutely _promise_ not to put yourself or your friends in any danger. I cannot stand the idea of you walking straight into McCracken's control."

"Yeah, okay," Kate said agreeably, more focused on mentally compiling a barrage of questions to ask of the others when she was finally released. "Can I go now?"

The adults consented and she scampered over to the other room, where, sure enough, Reynie, Sticky, and Constance were waiting.

Reynie jumped up immediately when she walked through the door. Casting him a peculiar look – he cleared his throat and sat down again – she announced, "McCracken has a daughter!"

"We know," said Sticky, shivering. "I keep thinking of all the terrible things her father must have done…"

Reynie looked at him. "_Must_ have?" he asked in incredulity. "Sticky, we were at the brunt of it!"

"But we weren't the only ones," pointed out Kate. "I see what you're saying. He could've tortured any number of people, and probably did."

Constance was quiet, but continued to mutter things under her breath.

"What's that, Connie-girl?" asked Kate, leaning down.

"…Stupid shock watches… stupid pencils… stupid briefcases…"

"I think the reminder of Ten Men was perhaps hardest on her," Sticky said, looking at her in empathy. He, like the others, found her inimitably frustrating the majority of the time, but none of them wanted to see her in distress.

"Hey, it's okay," said Kate brightly, seating herself on the rug with her legs in their usual pretzel formation. "Did Mr. Benedict tell you? If we can show that we can stay safe or good or properly behaved and whatnot in here, then he'll let us get involved if something _does_ come up. I don't even know – I haven't seen the girl – but this could be good." She rubbed her hands together, grinning.

"Reynie saw her," Sticky said helpfully.

Kate leapt on top of Reynie, pinning him down and upending his glass of orange juice. "What did she look like?" she asked, shaking him. "Did she look shifty? Did she look like McCracken? Is she absolutely hideous, like Jillson and Martina? Who was she with? What was she doing? What, what? Where were you when you saw her? Was anybody else around?"

Reynie's face was slowly turning purple. Gasping for breath, he made the universal sign for choking. Kate thought he was attempting to convey something to her via re-enactment or charades of some sort, but Sticky cried out, "Kate! You're going to suffocate him!"

"What? Oh. Sorry." Kate stepped off of him and he started rubbing his ribs ruefully.

"You're lucky I'm used to it by now," he told her. "If it was anybody else, you could've just killed them."

"I suppose so," she said airily. "But you're used to it."

He smiled at her. "Yeah, I actually think it's been good for my lungs. They need a good workout here and there."

The two of them looked at each other, both as if they were trying to find something that had just barely disappeared over the horizon, but the moment was broken by Constance saying grumpily, "So are you going to answer her stupid questions?"

"Constance, you think everything is stupid when you're upset," Reynie pointed out, hurriedly looking away from Kate. "But okay, I'll answer them if you can repeat them back slowly." He started to add, "And without breaking my ribs again," but somehow felt that wasn't tactful – Kate was resolutely staring at the floor – and kept his mouth quiet.

"Kate? Are you going to…?" asked Sticky as they waited for her.

"You can do it, Sticky," she said, inspecting her hands as if they were extremely fascinating.

"Well, okay, then." He gave her a curious look, then turned to Reynie, rattling them off exactly as she had asked them.

Kate only looked up when Reynie began answering: "She looked like McCracken. I mean, I didn't remember exactly what he looked like, but she looked familiar, and then Mr. Benedict showed us a picture of him and the resemblance is… well, they're clearly related. Dark blue eyes, big shoulders, and you know how his hair was perfectly styled? I didn't notice this, but apparently her hair was too. Um… I'm not the right person to ask about someone's looks, so I'll just skip that question. She was alone. I was at the ice cream parlor with Sophie and she was staring at us."

"What?" said Kate hastily. "You were with Sophie?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Sophie's the one who said she had 'perfect' hair. We both thought it was kind of weird that –"

"I've got to go now," Kate said in a strangely thick, muffled voice. "See you at dinner."

She left, went up four flights to her room, and let out a long, angry scream. She was pummeling her mattress furiously when Miss Perumal came in.

"Kate?" she asked.

"Yeah, hi," said Kate miserably.

"What's the matter?"

Taking a shuddery breath, she recounted what had happened after she'd joined the others. "And it's so _stupid_," she wailed, sounding much like Constance, "because now this stupid thing is getting in the way of every single thing that I want to do! I was so happy about the secret mission – or not secret – or whatever it is! I mean, finally there was going to be _action!_ But then my _stupid_ feelings came along and decided to mess _everything_ up!" Howling, she buried her face in her pillow.

"Oh, Kate," said Miss Perumal soothingly, rubbing her back. "It's okay. That was just one small thing."

"One small thing? One small thing! Exactly! One tiny little eeny-weeny itty-bitty _small_ thing! And here I am, all cut up about it, and all because of _one small thing!_"

"Well, what upset you in particular?"

Kate sat up, thinking. "I was cross because Reynie and I were kind of joking around and Constance interrupted, and then he said he was with Sophie when he saw McCracken's daughter, and… I just felt angry. Angry and frustrated."

"It's perfectly normal to feel some jealousy. Reynie and Sophie _are_ together, after all –"

"Not yet. It's not official," said Kate. "At least I have that. Maybe something will happen and…" Her voice trailed off. "Look at me! I've turned into a terrible person! I'm never jealous of people! Especially people like Sophie!"

Miss Perumal hesitated, then said carefully, "I think it is safe to say that at this point, Reynie and Sophie are… involved, or 'official'. That is _not_ to discredit your own worth – which is a lot, Kate. Someday Reynie will see it in you, I promise. I know that he sees it already, just not like that. And who knows? Things might change. We have a new villain, and that has to be exciting to you." She smiled affectionately. "In a couple of months, you and Reynie's roles could be reversed – you might be over it, and he might like you the way you like him now. Does that make sense?"

Kate, being the logical person she was, couldn't help but nod. "It does," she admitted. "I just… I don't know. It's not _like_ me to wish things against my friends."

"Feelings change. And these feelings are new, so it's bound to be disconcerting. But Reynie is an old friend, and however much these new feelings may disturb you, I promise everything will be fine in the long run. Ultimately, it's about who will love you the most when you deserve it the least. Perhaps Reynie will have that with you, instead of with Sophie." She paused. "But do please try and stay friends with him. He _needs_ friends, particularly in light of recent events. It isn't fair to punish either of you by breaking off what has been a strong and developing connection."

"Okay," said Kate, getting off of her bed and stretching. "Thanks, Miss Perumal," she added, retrieving a medium-thick rope from her bucket and uncoiling it. "You're really helpful, you know," she continued, leaning down and removing a floorboard. After a brief glance under the beam of her flashlight, she stowed that away, looped the rope securely around one of the multiple pipes that were now exposed, and disappeared into the darkness before Miss Perumal could say anything.

And, of course, when, a minute and a half later, after Miss Perumal had jumped up and frantically raced down the stairs in case Kate fell, the very person whose safety she had been so concerned about was standing there, beaming and saying,

"Wow. You're a slow poke, aren't you?"

For, you see, Kate Wetherall _never_ fell.

**As you can see, I opted to create an entirely new character - McCracken's legacy. You never know what might happen next. Banning them from leaving the house has had a very low success rate, after all.**

**Let me know what you thought of this last chapter and how you're liking the story. Thanks so much for reading!**


	13. Chapter 14

**I would just like to take a second to say thank you. You have no idea how awesome it is to have a bunch of emails with your reviews and story alerts etc. every time I open my email. Honestly, it's not a lot, but every person who bothers to read my writing counts. So yeah, thank you. I'm super appreciative and grateful and hope to continue gaining your support in whatever writing projects I decide to take on next.**

**Constance**

Constance was grumpy.

And, as you know, Constance's grumpiness far surpassed normal grumpiness. One might even go so far as to say that her temperament, while steadily improving, might be rather… well, at any rate, it put her – and the Society – at a bit of a disadvantage when she was out of sorts and, as a result, began to speak absolutely nothing but insults.

It is fair to say that at this point, her anger was valid. Remember – she had been _already _stuck inside the house attending her own version of "school" for the past two weeks, and as much as she groused and complained about it, it kept her occupied. But all of that was gone as Mr. Benedict embarked on his new and pressing project, necessitating participation from the grown-ups and none of the kids. And although to many children, the prospect of a stake-out type of affair would be invigorating, to her it was… dull. Her past escapades had set the bar a tad high; now, unless she was out on the playing field, she saw no merit in doing whatever it was she was supposed to be doing.

This meant, of course, that she turned to Kate, whom she regarded as the queen of rule-breaking and escape-planning. When Kate was on frustratingly and suspiciously good behavior, she implored the adults. When _they_ had the nerve to brush her off, she resorted to her default disposition and did a traditional Constance Contraire.

Suddenly all her offensive couplets and rhyming returned. The boys disliked being around her, and while Kate was most tolerant, she too was easily irked. Nobody enjoys being around a cross person, regardless of age. Not to mention, in regards to the rest of the Society members, there was always the added threat of having their minds probed, and none of them particularly fancied that.

What they didn't understand was that Constance was changing as well, and that they, and her talents, were all she had. She wasn't the oddball anymore; they accepted her, a feeling that she treasured, as much as she seemed to be greatly unappreciative. Now she was a child, not a toddler, and all children need friends. Being unusually mature in some aspects, she was content spending time with Mr. Benedict and Number Two to a degree, but needed Reynie, Sticky, and Kate more than she let on. Her solution was as it had always been: to push them away in the hopes that they would try to come find her.

When she felt lost, as she did now, it was true that she did attempt to delve into their secrets, because what else was she to do? She wanted to be close to people who were in no position to be close to her. After all, they were teenagers. She was a little kid.

If she had been able to look into the future, _really_ look into the future, she would have realized that, much sooner than she suspected, she would be in the thick of it, and she _would_ be vital for success.

But for now, all she could do was go about her business, sneaking cookies, rhyming names with bad words, and trying desperately to fit in.

**I thought I'd toss in a chapter focused on Constance. While this story mainly revolves around Kate/Reynie's relationship, of course there has to be other character development, and I feel strongly that Constance would not have an easy time of it. She's always been the littlest one, the frustrating one, etc. It's natural that she would feel left out and underappreciated. At her age, most of us were beginning kindergarten, and I remember the apprehension and worries about not making friends. I hope you like it, and I'll return to the main story next chapter.**


	14. Chapter 15

**Reynie**

Reynie was, like the others, more than upset about this new development. Not only did it seem a bit of an overreaction on Mr. Benedict's part, he was also faced with separation from Sophie.

Being an appropriately cautious and reasonable person, he understood that safety measures were necessary, but this? This was frustrating. Naturally, he turned to Sticky and Kate for support, but Kate was still acting abnormal. When he explained that he really liked Sophie and didn't know what he was supposed to do with himself now, a fleeting emotion crossed her face that he had never seen before. She departed abruptly, leaving him confused and apprehensive about the upcoming days – or weeks. Nobody knew how long it might take for the adults to gain intelligence on the situation to their satisfaction.

Luckily for the children, news came quickly. Rhonda donned her old disguise and, with Milligan for back up, was able to meet McCracken's daughter and tease some information out of her.

"Mackenzie," she announced, triumphantly striding into the sitting room. Constance glanced up from the 2000 piece puzzle she and Sticky had been working on.

"What?" asked Reynie blankly. He'd taken to journaling in the past year, and now that he had such copious amounts of free time he was almost constantly writing.

"Mackenzie McCracken is her name," Milligan clarified, coming up behind Rhonda and hanging his jacket and hat up. "She's fifteen years old and seems… well, not _nice_. Something was definitely off. But she seems innocent enough." He shrugged.

Kate, who had been listening at the doorway, bounded in enthusiastically. "So does this mean we can leave now?" she asked brightly.

"I'm afraid not," said Rhonda ruefully. "Our nagging suspicion is that she is on the look-out for her father, which would explain why she appeared to be spying on Reynie and Sophie."

Kate flinched at the name. Reynie noticed this and said nothing, though his mind began to start whirling again. Focusing on the conversation, however, he concurred, "That would make sense. When we made eye contact she looked away guiltily, like somebody caught doing something bad that they didn't want to do." He frowned. "She's hesitant, isn't she?"

"Guarded, to say the least," said Milligan. "We're careful not to jump to conclusions, of course, so don't start making up wild stories in your head. Mr. Benedict and Miss Perumal are working together on trying to gain details from the prison around McCracken's time there, and if he is still in custody – he's supposed to be, you see. Unfortunately, they're a very private institution and just reaching them has been difficult enough."

Number Two appeared just as Rhonda began to say something, bearing the news that they were wanted in the study. Casting a rather pitying look at the kids, she retreated.

Kate slumped down on the couch next to Reynie, picking moodily at the stuffing that had begun to come out. "What do you think _that _means?" she grumbled. "We'll be stuck in here for ages."

"I don't know," said Sticky, his brow knotted up.

"They know more than they said," Constance piped up nonchalantly.

The other three looked at her.

"What do you mean?" asked Kate.

"Wasn't it obvious? I mean, the way Milligan was shuffling his feet slightly, and Rhonda's tone of voice? It was clear as day that they have information they think we can't handle, or maybe they're unsure of it and don't want to make us form wrong ideas, or they just don't trust us, or something."

Kate and Reynie exchanged a look. This wasn't unusual; Constance tended to forget that others didn't have her talents, and assumed that they too sensed the things she did with ease. It was always a delicate task to get her to explain further; if she realized that they weren't as omniscient as she was, the result was usually an upset and bewilderment they didn't wished to avoid.

"I guess I noticed something," said Kate, nudging Reynie.

"Me too," he said.

"Yeah," said Constance distractedly, placing five more puzzle pieces.

Sticky wisely decided to stay out of this – smooth subtlety was not his forte.

Reynie cleared his throat, looking to Kate for guidance. She nodded encouragingly and he continued, "But, I mean… how can we be sure? How do we know, for certain, that they were hiding something from us?"

"Oh, you know," replied Constance vaguely.

Kate suppressed a vexed sigh. "I think we just wanted to check the facts with you, honestly," she said. "Since you're the best with these kinds of things, and we're amateurs, really, we were just wondering what your take on it was."

Constance paid attention at last. "Well, when Number Two came into the room I kind of… read her, a little, because she was looking at us funny. She's scared because Mr. Benedict suspects that McCracken has escaped from jail and is paying an accomplice to pretend to be him, and this matches up with what Milligan and Rhonda are hiding. I don't know what it is exactly, but I think that Rhonda probably found out something about Mackenzie's family during their conversation." Her eyes widened. "I don't even… I don't even know how I know all of that," she said breathlessly.

Sticky was gaping at her. Reynie didn't quite know what to say; to point out that her skills had improved far beyond normal human perceptions was not a prudent move. He automatically looked to Kate, who smiled at him and, shaking her hair back into a ponytail, said breezily, "Yeah, that's just about what we figured."

Reassured, Constance shrugged and returned to her activities. Sticky joined in, understanding that it was best to act as though none of these revelations were important to him, but all of their brains were racing.

It was true that Mr. Benedict's education of Constance was unknown to the others. They'd never felt the need to pry, too wrapped up in their own school experiences to think much of it. And because of the much lessened number of secret missions and harrowing journeys that they dove into, they'd rather forgotten that Constance was known not only to read thoughts, but also hypnotize. And these abilities were only beginning to evolve.

Reynie bent over his journal now, writing feverishly of the newest developments and wondering what might be to come.

_I wonder what Sophie's up to_, he wrote. _It's such a shame that we can't see each other anymore, but I have an inkling that forthcoming events might compensate for my – and the Society's – current inactivity. If what Constance revealed is true, then I wouldn't put it past us, or at least Kate, to fabricate a plan which puts us in the thick of it. I will, of course, participate if this should occur – I won't let her take all the glory herself!_ He glanced over at her; she was reading the Humor section of the newspaper and laughing loudly every so often. With a small, private smile, he concluded, _I think that whatever rift formed between the two of us is gone, at least for now. I could not be more grateful. Kate is, and always will be, one of my closest friends._ Putting his journal down and shaking out his cramped hand, Reynie gave a satisfied sigh.

Only time would tell what the next few days might entail, he figured, and there was no use hypothesizing and worrying himself over as yet nonexistent battles to be fought. And so he obligingly listened and read the comics over Kate's shoulder as she recounted her favorite jokes, guffawing all the while.

**In this chapter, I tried to capture the moments in the original books that made me ship Kaynie: the way that she and Reynie always joined together as a team, the way he would always rely on her, particularly to deal with Constance, etc.**

**So I have two questions: one, I've kind of dropped the ball in regards to Sticky/Cleo's relationship. Do you want to hear more about it? I'm thinking that since I've transitioned out of that setting, I can keep making references to it but I will probably abstain from focusing on it. Let me know what you think.**

**And two, this is completely random, and please don't take this in a stalkerish way, but I'm just curious – how old are you guys? I find it interesting because the books are targeted at a younger age group, yet I'm in high school and am zealously writing a fanfic about it. So if you're comfortable (again, NOT A STALKER) let me know in the review section! No judgment here, I promise.**

**Sorry for the awkwardly long author's note. As usual, I hope you liked this chapter and can't wait to read your reviews!**


	15. Chapter 16

**Kate**

Though she would deny it to anyone, Kate was relieved to be stuck inside the house. Not that she enjoyed it, of course; she spent the majority of her time "stretching her legs", which translated as twisting her body into absurd and painful-looking positions, discovering new methods of surprise attacks, memorizing the pipe system that ran across most of the ceilings and inside walls, building up strength so as to one day be half as strong as Moocho, and badgering her father.

Because this new lifestyle seemed much more comfortable to her, she became a great deal more relaxed around Reynie, a relief on both ends. In a rare fit of shrewdness, she realized that she had to pull it together. _Come on, Kate_, she urged herself. _If you're going to like Reynie, you can like Reynie, but for god's sake just accept it and act like you always have around him._ And so she followed her own wisdom and found it to be quite beneficiary.

After Constance's proclamation, Reynie pulled Kate aside.

"Do you really think she's telling the truth?" he asked in an undertone.

They both looked at her. She currently had her hand in her mouth, digging around to dislodge a wad of hard candy that had gotten stuck to her teeth. When she saw that they were staring at her, she pulled her most unattractive face and stuck her nose in the air.

"I think so," answered Kate, turning back to Reynie. They were in the small antechamber to the sitting room, which did not have particularly ample space. "She's not a liar," she added, defensive of the little girl, of whom she'd grown quite fond.

"Of course not! I wasn't implying that," reassured Reynie. "I just… if what she says is true, if they know more than they let on… if McCracken is out on the loose…" They both shivered.

"I know. It could be bad."

Reynie looked at her and started to smile.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" she asked, wiping her cheek.

"No, no. It's just that, well, you sounded so eager when you said that."

"Did I? Sorry. It's not that I _want_ things to be bad, of course. It's just that there's only so much to do, and as much as I prefer this lifestyle to public school – really, that was awful, and I hope we never have to go back, and seeing you and Sophie all…" At this, she flushed and coughed. "Anyway, don't you miss the old days? Fighting, breaking rules, sneaking around, solving puzzles…" She gazed wistfully into space. "I'm just saying, if something exciting and sinister is brewing, then I'd rather be ready and enthusiastic to face it than not."

Reynie was looking at her intently. He tactfully decided not to bring up her almost-comment on him and Sophie, but not knowing was already killing him. Was it possible that Kate was much more upset about their relationship than he had suspected? Suddenly the space between them seemed much less, and Kate's face much closer.

She was looking at him with a nervous expression. What could he be thinking now? Was he judging her? Reynie never judged, so probably not. What, then, could cause him to look at her the way he was now? Feeling herself turn even redder, she announced, "I'm, uh, going to go see what Sticky's up to." And she raced off before he could say anything else.

**Okay, I know that was an abrupt chapter, but I wanted to switch to Reynie's point of view. I think the next two chapters will be his reaction to what just happened, and hers as well. But don't worry – there will be some action, or at least new developments, mixed in.**

**Let me know what you thought about their little moment in the reviews!**


	16. Chapter 17

**Thank you so much for the reviews, guys. It really means a lot. I will try to make my chapters longer now, but that does mean I won't update as frequently, so take your pick! Also, I'm in camp this week and next, so that'll also delay updates, sorry. But I'll write a bunch over the weekend.**

**Reynie**

After Kate left abruptly, he went over and sat down next to Constance. This was an awkward endeavor, as she gave no acknowledgment that he was there, not even when he said hello.

"Can I help with the puzzle?" he asked.

She grunted, then sighed at his expression and shoved a pile of pieces across the floor to him.

Doing puzzles with Constance, Reynie knew already, was not a very self esteem-boosting affair. You may think you're the best puzzler of your years, but sit down with her and you'll feel bumbling and stupid. Still, this was something Reynie was willing to risk in order to, well, avoid going up to see Sticky.

It wasn't about Sticky, though. No, it was about Kate, and he knew it. For whatever reason, he simply felt that it was best to give her a wide berth, at least until dinner. After all, she'd been the one to abandon their conversation, he reasoned, and it would only make sense that she would be the one who would resume speaking to him.

"You're horrible at this," Constance commented cheerfully.

"That's not nice," Reynie protested. "At least _I'm_ helping you."

"Only because you can't be with Kate."

He looked up at her. She was contentedly humming and filling in the spot where a rose was supposed to go. "What?" he asked, sitting up and putting down the two pieces he'd been attempting to fit together. She didn't answer, so he repeated, "What?"

"Hm?" she said distractedly, now onto the bush part. "Oh, you mean, the thing I said about Kate."

"Yeah."

"What about it?"

"What did you mean by it?"

"It was perfectly obvious, Reynie. Gosh, I make one plain statement and you get all worked up –"

"Stop it, Constance. I'm not worked up. You still haven't told me what you meant by it."

Constance sat cross-legged but now looked straight and searchingly at him. Despite his instincts to run, he maintained eye contact. After a moment, she sat down with a satisfied, "Hmph."

"Well?"

"You like Kate, don't you."

"What do you mean? We're friends, sure, but –"

"Don't interrupt. You like Kate, she likes you, it's all perfectly obvious, so I suggest you go find her and sweep her off her feet and get married, or something." And, with a complacent smirk, she returned to her puzzle.

"Constance! What in the world are you – I don't know what you think – you're – that's ridiculous!" spluttered Reynie. "How do you even – who are you to judge anything about me 'liking' Kate? What does 'liking' even _mean?_"

"Alright, how do you feel about Sophie?"

"Um…" How _did_ he feel about her? He remember their trip into town – the first one, of course, not the one when Mackenzie was staring at them – and how pretty she looked. The feeling he got in his stomach, the thoughts flashing through his head.

"See?" said Constance. "_That's_ what liking is. I don't know what other word to use."

"But… I feel that way about Sophie," said Reynie, confused. "I don't understand how I could – why I would –"

"I think that's up to you to figure out," said Constance thoughtfully.

"What is?" asked Kate brightly, jumping down from the ceiling. She yanked the rope down, coiled it up neatly, returned it to her bucket, and, standing on the arm of the couch, slid the tile back into place.

"Nothing," said Reynie hurriedly, avoiding her inquisitive gaze. "Is dinner ready soon?"

"Constance, stop it," said Mr. Benedict firmly as, for the fourth time, she attempted to hypnotize him into giving her thirds on dessert. "You should know by now that I am, to some extent, rather impervious to your remarkable talents. At least when not taken off guard, and these attempts have become increasingly predictable."

"Fine," said Constance, turning to Reynie.

"Constance, would you like to help me clean the dishes?" asked Miss Perumal quickly. "There's a cake batter bowl that needs licking."

Constance bounded out of her seat and followed obligingly.

Rhonda cleared her throat. "Children," she said quietly, "we need to talk to you."

They leaned in, exchanging excited looks. Was this it? Would they finally tell them the full truth of what they'd discovered?

"I'm afraid things are much more serious than we suspected," said Mr. Benedict. "You see, we've run into some complications and it would seem that Mackenzie is not the only one on the loose."

"You mean McCracken escaped from jail," blurted out Kate. "Sorry."

Mr. Benedict gave a frustrated sigh. "Constance told you that. I know, I know, don't try to deny it. It's fine. However… there is a reason that we've directed her attention elsewhere for the duration of this conversation. The thing you must understand about her talent is that she can only perceive what is on our minds. This does not mean she perceives the truth of a situation; rather, she can read our fears and racing thoughts. In this case, our fears turned out to be correct, but I don't wish for her to continue to try and read us now, because we're fearful of many things, none of which are of your concern."

"If you just told us what was going on, we wouldn't have to rely on Constance," pointed out Kate. "Please?" She looked at Milligan, but he shook his head.

"Perhaps we're being overly cautious," spoke up Rhonda. "It's just that we value the safety of you children beyond reason, and thus far the evidence against the McCrackens has been nothing remotely positive or reassuring, so you must try to understand why we can't allow utter transparency. All we can say right now is that you're safe as long as you remain in the house."

"I get it," Sticky said quickly. Kate and Reynie looked at him. "What?" he said defensively, staring at his lap. "I just think that we ought to stay in the house if the adults… I don't want to…" Appearing frightened, he started over. "I don't want to get into danger again. I don't want to fight, I don't _like _fighting and finding clues and – and…" He trailed off feebly.

Milligan began to say something, but Kate butted in. "You know what?" she said loudly and confidently. "I don't blame you. And I don't want to fight anymore than you do – trust me, I don't – but you want to know the reason I don't seem so scared about it?"

Sticky nodded.

"Because I have my bucket. And guess what?"

Sticky leaned forward, looking slightly more hopeful."What?"

"You won't even need one, because starting today, I'm going to teach you boys how to live like Kate Wetherall. And Constance, too, if she wants." She sat back, arms crossed defiantly.

Mr. Benedict smiled. "Am I to understand that you're going to host a seminar on how to climb up rafters and jump off buildings?" he asked in amusement.

At this, Kate's eyes widened and she jumped out of her chair, all but shouting, "You mean I can jump off the house?"

Chuckling, Mr. Benedict shook his head. "Don't be too disappointed, though," he said.

"So you'll let me do other stuff, like if it's inside the house?"

He looked at Milligan and Rhonda. They all nodded and shrugged and nodded again at each other. "Yes," said Mr. Benedict. "As long as it doesn't severely injure anybody, and it's on a purely voluntary basis… yes. You can."

Sticky looked simultaneously petrified and thrilled. "Do – do you think I could _really _learn how to jump down from ceilings like you?" he asked tremulously.

Kate looked at him kindly. "I think you could probably start by jumping off chairs and tables."

The adults laughed at this and called Miss Perumal and a very satisfied Constance back into the room, and spent the rest of dinner peacefully making light conversation.

Reynie couldn't help being impressed with Kate. Her ability to jump in and ease the situation was more valuable now than ever, between Constance's prophesies and Sticky's anxiety and the overall ominous mood that was slowly creeping over the atmosphere.

He didn't want to fight and be put in danger – who does, really? – but if they were, and with the Society danger felt inevitable at this point, Kate was the person he'd want to learn from. After all, Kate was amazing, and funny, and kind, and just such a good, honest, earnest person, and… He felt himself flush suddenly, and hastily looked up to make sure nobody had noticed. Thankfully, they hadn't, and, even more thankfully, Constance was concentrated on a pile of candy that Kate had snuck her beneath the table. He was safe.

**I hope you liked this chapter! It looks like Reynie and Kate might have some one on one time while she's "training" the Society. They have to do **_**something**_** before trying their skills out on the field, right? Let me know what you thought of this in the review section, and thanks for reading!**


	17. Chapter 18

**Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry that I haven't posted sooner! I've been so busy with camp and I literally wake up, frantically type a paragraph or two while eating breakfast, then come home, stare at the screen for a couple minutes, and fall asleep. I hope you like it and since it's the weekend I'll get more up soon.**

**I also just wanted to say thank you for your patience and your support and compliments and awesomeness. Like, it **_**really **_**makes my day to read your reviews. So thanks.**

**Kate**

Kate couldn't fall asleep that night. This was rare; while most children stay up tossing and turning and bounding out of bed every so often – "Is it morning yet?" – on Christmas eve or any eve of a day on which they receive presents, Kate couldn't care less about that sort of business. Instead, the occasions where _she _had trouble drifting off were either when her life was in danger, she was pressing up against a deadline, or there was some type of stimulating, exciting activity coming up that would finally give her energetic brain something to do.

This time, the case was, of course, the latter one. The more she thought about it, the more brilliant "Kate lessons" were. If the others were half as agile and quick as she, it could greatly improve their success rates in combat. With Constance generally riding piggy back on one of the boys, and Sticky always second guessing, she couldn't believe they'd ever even triumphed.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, flopping back onto her bed after pacing for a bit. Sighing, she reached for her bucket and uncoiled a length of thin rope, resigned to another late-night exploration of the house. Before she could unfasten a ceiling tile, however, one moved, seemingly of its own accord. Suppressing a scream, she jumped back, fumbling in her bucket for her slingshot, which she aimed carefully at the source of movement. "Who's there?" she asked loudly, thoughts of McCracken and escaped Ten Men whirling through her head.

"Let _go _of me," came a muffled but familiarly irritable voice. Kate relaxed and helped move over the tile.

"Oh, hello," she said, watching in amusement as Constance and Reynie tumbled ungracefully down. "Where's Sticky?"

"He was, uh, asleep," explained Reynie.

"Sure," conceded Constance grumpily.

Kate reached over and flicked the light switch. "So what brings you to my – my –" She tried to think of a clever and witty term for their current location, but gave up and said lamely, "My room."

"I can't stop thinking about what Mr. Benedict said," Reynie explained.

"I know, me neither!" Kate sat down on the floor across from him, legs crossed. "What do you think they're worried about?"

"McCracken finding us, obviously." He paused. "Do you think he would?"

"Find us? I don't know. I kind of feel like McCracken was nothing without Mr. Curtain, so why would he still be malicious?"

"No." Reynie shook his head. "The Executives were nothing without Curtain, but he had no control over his Ten Men. They did what they wanted. They were a different brand of evil."

Constance's face had paled. "Can we please talk about something else?" she asked in a small voice.

Kate and Reynie exchanged a look. Poor Constance, who already had a remarkable capacity to retain memories in acute detail, had been faced with the worst horrors that the Ten Men could offer. In a mutual yet silent agreement, Kate and Reynie resolved to change the subject and be more careful when discussing McCracken.

"Anyway," said Kate brightly, "who's excited for tomorrow?"

"What's so special about tomorrow?" grumbled Constance.

"Kate's teaching us how to live," Reynie said, grinning at her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Constance suspiciously.

"Reynie doesn't know what he's talking about," said Kate, winking at him. "I'm not teaching you how to _live_, exactly. Just how to… well, I don't know how to describe it." She frowned, realizing that she did not, in fact, have any clue as to how she was going to present her "lessons".

"That sounds lame." Constance crossed her arms and fought back a yawn.

Kate laughed, ruffling up her hair. "You're tired! Go back to bed, Connie-girl."

"Shut up," the little girl muttered, but stood up anyway and teetered over to the door. Halfway there, she fell down and promptly started snoring.

"I'd better go with her," said Reynie, standing up. He leaned down. "Constance?"

Her eyelids fluttered open and for a moment, the stormy expression was gone. She held her arms out to him and, not sure what to do, he awkwardly lifted her off the floor.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said to Kate, stumbling out into the hallway. "Don't worry, I've got the light," he added, leaning in and turning it off before she could. "Goodnight."

"Bye," said Kate softly, watching him sway down the corridor, balancing the six year old on his shoulder. He disappeared for a moment as he deposited her in his room, then reappeared and walked the rest of the way to his bedroom. With a small sigh, Kate slowly shut the door, crawled back into bed, and went to sleep.

**Okay, I know this one was short, but I feel bad that I haven't posted anything in awhile. Thankfully, I have more free time this weekend, so I'll try to put at least one more chapter out.**

**Let me know what you thought. I'm already working on the next chapter, which will be Reynie POV. I thought that the Constance/Reynie thing was sweet, since she does really rely on them more than she lets on, and as they're all maturing I think he makes a really good and solid big brother figure for her. Thanks for reading!**


	18. Chapter 19

**Reynie**

He woke up at nine o'clock the next morning and went downstairs to find the others already finishing up breakfast. Kate and Sticky seemed to be engaged in some sort of argument.

"I just wish, for once, you'd invite me when you're having a meeting," Sticky was saying reproachfully.

"And I keep trying to explain to you, Reynie said you were asleep," said Kate in exasperation. "We're not trying to leave you out or anything."

"Hello, Reynie," said Constance through a mouthful of ice cream.

Kate spun around in her chair. "Reynie! Could you _please _explain to Sticky that we didn't purposefully leave him out of the meeting last night?"

Reynie coughed.

The fact was, he'd initially planned on going to see if Kate was still awake – alone.

Unfortunately, his skills at climbing through ceilings weren't the best (though they would certainly improve by the end of the day, and many other classic Kate Wetherall maneuvers would be added to his repertoire), and he made a lot of noise. After skinning his knee on a rusty pipe, he decided to walk – her room wasn't _that _far away – and descended into what he thought was still his room.

However, it was Sticky's, and Sticky had bounded out of bed, asking what in the world Reynie was doing and could he come along. Reynie felt strangely compelled to say no – he even felt a touch of uncharacteristic annoyance – and returned to his room, realizing he had to go the ceiling route to avoid confrontation.

This route, he learned, meant clambering over Constance's room, and as we all know, Constance has an acute ability to sense upcoming activity or events. This meant that he was forced to take her along in return for her promise not to yell out, tell the adults, or tease him about it the following day.

"Y-You were asleep," he stammered to Sticky.

"What! No I wasn't! You fell into _my _room, and then said you were going back to yours, so I don't understand how you ended up with Constance in Kate's room!" Agitated, he rubbed the back of his head, which he still kept in a buzz cut.

"Sorry! I thought I – I don't – you're not left out," Reynie tried to explain, but now Kate was looking at him with an unreadable expression. "Okay, fine, I went without you."

"Reynie!" said Kate, sounding shocked. "You said he was asleep!"

"I know!" A feeling of guilt and dread was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. Who _was _he? Why would he ever reject Sticky and then lie about it? Something was happening. He didn't know what, and he didn't like it. Mumbling about an upset stomach, he left the room, shaking his head and resolving to find Miss Perumal.

"Reynie! Wait!" called Kate. He turned around. She hurried towards him, shaking her hair out of its ponytail and running a hand over her forehead. "What's going on?" she asked when she reached him. "Why did you lie about Sticky being asleep?"

"I just didn't…" Reynie gave a shuddery sigh. The whole point of the Society was that they stuck together, and every member was invaluable. He'd broken the unspoken code and he felt awful. How was he supposed to explain this to Kate? Kate, his best friend, whose disappointment he could not take.

"Reynie?" She spoke quietly, questioningly. "Just tell me why in the world you would –"

"Okay! Fine," he said. "Kate, I'm not proud of what I did. Sticky's my best friend. It's only that… well, so are you." He explained the events of last night. "And I feel absolutely terrible about it. It was stupid, and – and immature. I don't know what came over me."

"You wanted to see me, alone, without Sticky," clarified Kate. He nodded. She fought back a smile – why did hearing that feel good? – and cleared her throat. "Where are you going now?"

"To talk to somebody."

She tilted her head, looking at him. "Okay," she said softly, nodding. "Whenever you're ready, come down to the sitting room for the first lesson."

He grinned. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good." She bit her lip, then swiveled around on her heels and gamboled back to the kitchen. Reynie watched her leave, and Sophie's face flashed into his mind's eye for one confusing second. Then she was gone, and, shaking his head, he went looking for Miss Perumal.

Miss Perumal was in a heated, whispered conversation among the adults. Mr. and Mrs. Washington, who stayed at their own – and, technically, Sticky's – home for most of the time to take care of Penelope, had found a sitter and rushed to Mr. Benedict's upon hearing of Mackenzie McCracken and her father's hypothetical break-out. They, Rhonda, Number Two, and Milligan were crowded around Mr. Benedict's desk in the study, and when Reynie knocked on the door he heard a hurried rustling of papers being stowed away into drawers.

"Yes?" asked Mrs. Washington, opening the door. She looked paler than usual.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Miss Perumal? Can I… talk to you? It'll only take a moment, I promise."

They all exchanged looks and Miss Perumal nodded, coming over to him in the hallway and shutting the door. "What is it?" she asked, looking at him in fond concern.

"I have a bit of a dilemma." _That _was an understatement.

"Tell me from the beginning, but do try to make it quick, as things are getting tense. Oh, Reynie, promise me you won't venture outside."

Itching to ask a million questions but checking himself, Reynie speedily recounted the events of last night leading up to his altercation with Sticky and conversation with Kate. "I just don't know what to do," he explained. "This is all so unsettling to me. I'm not a mean person. I'm not unkind. So why did I abandon my best friend when I know how much we all need to be included?"

A strange look was crossing Miss Perumal's face. Happiness? Pride? Understanding? Maybe all three. "You are not a bad person for feeling this way," she said. Reynie felt himself relax.

"I'm not?" he asked.

"Of course not," she reassured him. "Jealousy is a human emotion. We all feel that way at some point or other, and oftentimes act on it in ways that we will regret."

"Jealousy? Is that what I've been feeling?"

"Only you can tell yourself what you are feeling," said Miss Perumal gently. "It is my belief that you feel a certain new attachment, a new feeling, for Kate, and this prompts you to sometimes leave others out, wishing to have more one-on-one time with her than the rest of the Society is accustomed to. You aren't excluding Sticky out of mere spite; he and Kate are no longer comparable."

"They're both my best friends, though, so isn't it bad if I choose one over the other?"

"That's something that I don't think I can fully explain to you. I'll say that… you're not choosing one friend over the other. Kate doesn't hold the same place in your heart as Sticky does anymore, and so the attention you pay to one of them cannot be compared to the other."

Reynie's mind was whirling. He grasped the concept quickly enough, but these feelings that Miss Perumal was talking about… they puzzled him. Why would Kate be different than Sticky, all of a sudden? He was buds with Sticky, and he was buds with Kate. Why should that change?

The door opened and Number Two emerged. "I'm sorry to cut in, but Miss Perumal is needed right now."

"It's fine," said Reynie. "I'll see you later," he told Miss Perumal. "Thank you for talking."

She drew him into a hug. "You'll figure it out," she told him. "I'm confident in you."

"Miss Perumal?" Number Two tapped her foot nervously.

"Yes, of course." She returned to the study, and Reynie stood there for a minute, gathering his thoughts. From the sitting room, he heard a shout and crash and, grinning, sprinted down the stairs to Kate's first lesson.

When he ran in, he discovered a broken lamp, a red-faced Sticky, and Constance nowhere to be seen. Kate was looking extremely frazzled and had placed her bucket on the coffee table, anxiously searching the area.

"What just happened?" asked Reynie in alarm.

"Oh, Reynie, thank goodness." Kate seized his arm, pulling him into the scene. "We're trying to find Constance. Sticky wanted to make an entrance" – she looked sternly at a sheepish Sticky – "and Constance fell through a weak spot in the ceiling, bounced off that lamp, and we're not sure where she went. A small girl like that… oh no, if we don't find her, my lessons will be put to a stop! Help me!" She started frantically upturning cushions and tipping over tables.

"Constance!" called Reynie, doing the sensible thing. "Everybody, be quiet for a moment."

There came a faint, muted sound from the closet, whose door had swung closed in the frenzy.

Kate rushed over, threw the door open, and dragged a grumpy, dust-covered Constance out.

"You're stupid!" shouted Constance, beating at Kate with her fists.

"Me? I didn't even do anything!" protested Kate, too relieved to feel overly indignant.

"Sticky!" yelled Constance. "Don't you try to leave!" For Sticky had been silently attempting to sneak off. Hanging his head, he came in and bravely endured five minutes of rhyming insults. When the girl had finally run out of breath, Kate clasped her hands together and said happily,

"Ready for the lesson?"

"I hurt my ankle," Constance complained.

"So are you just going to sit in the corner and whine and make rude comments?" asked Kate seriously.

"You're stupid," said Constance loftily, then registered what Kate had just said and, smirking, said, "Yes. I'll do just that."

Shrugging at Reynie, who was surveying the situation in mild amusement, Kate sat down on the couch, patting the two spots next to her for the boys. When they obligingly took their seats, she said triumphantly, "I am the Great Kate Weather Machine and this is the first of many lessons" – Sticky groaned – "that I'll be conducting in regards to my… stratagem … and… abilities and… stuff."

"Abilities and stuff," said Reynie, nodding affirmatively. "Go on."

Shooting him a grateful look, Kate cleared her throat and said, "I'm going to begin from the simplest and handiest trick which Sticky attempted and did not succeed. Sorry, Sticky," she added sympathetically.

"It's okay," he said, rubbing his aching shoulder ruefully.

"Anyway. I can safely say that I know almost all the pathways around the ceiling of this house, and so most of class today will be spent there. I'll teach you how to crawl, avoid falling down, identify which pipes are which, and how to go as fast as I can." She looked expectantly at them, waiting for an enthusiastic response.

"Great," said Reynie, jumping up. "When do we start?"

Kate grinned, also jumping up and reaching for her bucket. "Now."

Sticky groaned.

**So, I was going to continue with this chapter into her training of them, but I thought I might as well change POVs so we can get some Kate inner dialogue around what happened with Reynie. I hope you liked this one and I promise to get the next one up as soon as possible. And I know that right now there isn't a lot of real action, but we'll find out soon enough what's going on in those tense meetings. Share your thoughts and comments in the review section! Thank you for reading!**


	19. Chapter 20

**Hey all, sorry for the wait! I have been crazy busy and also getting writer's block. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you like this chapter.**

**Kate**  
>Kate began by handing out coils of ropes to her new trainees. She heard herself easily explain the process of lassoing an exposed pipe and instructed the others to repeatedly attempt this until their speeds, as measured using the stopwatchtimer function on her handy multi-use watch, decreased by half. However, she was preoccupied with simultaneously thinking about and trying not to watch Reynie. Hearing that he had intended to only visit her the past night had a strange effect: she felt, well... pleased.

What kind of friend did this make her? She ought to reprove Reynie for having excluded the rest of their group, yet was what he did really so wrong? On paper, yes, but why did it seem like there was more to it? Grappling with herself, she announced a five minute break, opting to remain where she was while the others went to the kitchen, panting and sweating.

Things seemed so much easier at the Institute and the early creation of the Society. Somehow, it was simpler when they were all friends, or at least _she_ was free of these feelings, if that's what this mess could be called. What in the world was making her feel so out of whack around Reynie? She would just have to shake off these particular emotions and focus on the task at hand – which was indeed a difficult one.

This was not a slight to either boys' intelligence; they were quick studies by nature. Unfortunately, they simply did not possess Kate's innate agility, and while it was certainly possible to reach an extent of this remarkable capability over time, just thirty minutes had already exhausted them.

They returned after snacking, fueled up and prepared for the next step. Constance spent a great deal of time mocking their struggles but when Kate asked if she wanted to join them, she said yes in poorly-concealed enthusiasm.

"Ready?" asked Kate, bouncing from foot to foot in excitement. The adrenaline rush she got from teaching and crawling around absurdly small spaces was enough to distract from these confusing and newly developed emotions. She was utterly in her element as she sent Reynie up first, hoisted Sticky up with two fingers and haphazardly thrusted him into the cavity above, and, ignoring her indignant howls, tossed Constance behind him as well. Then she clambered up, obligingly folded in half to accommodate the space, and yanked the rope up behind her.

"Okay, guys, that time wasn't great," she said, balancing atop a pipe, "but I think you're all improving." They looked at her bleakly. She gave a satisfied nod, then asked impatiently, "Ready?"

She proceeded to spend the next hour giving them a tour of Mr. Benedict's house, identifying wires and pipes and insulation that marked their location and demonstrating how to slither up or down through small passages in the wall to switch between floors. By the end of it they were all able to orient themselves and were well on their way to mastering the art of wriggling through tight spaces at a solid, consistent pace.

Under Kate's jubilant encouragement, Reynie, Sticky, and Constance took turns leading the group; memorization was a breeze for all three, and their teacher was positively giddy with delight and pride once they'd successfully made it around the entire house at five times their initial speed, and they all ended up in the sitting room, dusty but pleased.

It was lunchtime now and they piled into the kitchen happily, expecting the adults to be there already. They weren't. Shrugging, they got out cold cuts and sandwich fixings and, setting them out at the table, chatted animatedly about the lesson.

"It was alright," muttered Constance, ducking her head to hide her smile.

"It was awesome," Reynie said, clapping Kate on the back. "Really awesome."

"I had no idea I could do that," Sticky said, still amazed that he hadn't messed the entire operation up. "I suppose it's hard to be clumsy when there's so little space to be clumsy _in_."

The others laughed at this and congratulated him, and an exuberant Kate jumped up and announced that her next lesson would be on the subject of combat; namely, how to survive a Ten Man encounter on a rooftop thirty feet off the ground.

"Of course, we can't actually climb on the roof, but I've decided we can use my attic." She looked at them, then sighed. "I feel bad. Are you _sure _you're okay with all this 'teaching'?"

"Why?" asked Reynie, surprised. "Of course we are! Or I am, at least."

"Yeah," conceded Sticky in bemusement, "what do you – what are you talking about?"

"Well, I just don't want it to… I don't want you to think that I don't approve of the way you are. Because the things we've done, the ways we've worked together, it seemed perfect. I don't want to mess something up and try to make you all similar to me or something, particularly when it's our unique talents that got us here in the first place."

"Who would want to be like _you?_" said Constance scornfully.

"I think what Constance means," cut in Reynie hurriedly as Kate looked rather wounded, "is that we _aren't_ you, and we won't become you. But we all have to admit that you're the quickest on your feet and you've saved our lives with that bucket, so would it hurt to pick up a few tips and tricks?" He looked at Sticky, who nodded fervently in agreement.

Kate beamed. "Thanks," she said, deeply grateful. Reynie smiled at her. There was silence for a moment as they all dug into their sandwiches, and then Constance jumped up.

"Someone's coming," she hissed, eyes widened in terror.

Before they could respond, a lot of things happened all at once. The lights started to flicker, then go out; Kate scrabbled around in her bucket for her flashlight and turned it on; there was a stampede down the stairs; the children raced around the back of the house; Constance shrieked as someone grabbed her from behind.

"Constance!" cried Kate, seizing her bucket and thrusting rope and her flashlight at the boys to hold. She doubled back, penlight clenched between her teeth, and started tugging at the girl, who was thrashing around and biting whatever came near her face. "Let go of her!" she shouted, causing the penlight to fall out of her mouth and roll to the floor.

The person holding Constance captive relinquished his hold on her and leaned down to pick it up.

"Here," he said.

She grabbed her penlight, shoving Constance protectively behind her. Then she paused, reminding herself to think before launching into full-out battle mode. Her opponent's voice sounded strangely familiar. Shining light onto his face, she exclaimed, "S.Q.?"

S.Q. Pedalian stood before them, just as sheepish as he had always been. "Hello, Kate," he said.

"What are you – Reynie! Sticky! It's S.Q.!"

They came running over, Reynie aiming the flashlight upwards to get a good look. S.Q. staggered backwards, shielding his face. Satisfied, Reynie stowed it back in the bucket at Kate's waist.

"What are you doing here?" asked Kate, resisting the urge to bowl S.Q. over in a hug. He'd been associated with the enemy for so long that it was quite difficult not being wary around him.

"Er – that's a rather long and conflexing – complusing – conflex –" He looked helplessly at the children in the dark.

"Confusing, complex, go on," said Kate.

"It's a long story," he said in relief. "Mr. Benedict recruited me to work with Rhonda and the others. My job is to protect you." His chest puffed out in pride.

"From what?" asked Reynie urgently. "What do you know?"

"Someone –" He fell silent, and the sound of a chase broke out overhead. "Someone, a girl, rang the doorbell while you were in your, ah, lesson. I'd just arrived and I'm afraid I let her in. She was with someone who seemed very, um… hesluctant. Resitant? I don't know…"

"Hesitant, reluctant, go on," said Kate quickly. He must be talking about Mackenzie McCracken, he must! Who else could be wreaking such havoc?

"Yes, she was with a friend, named Chloe. No, Cleo."

Next to Reynie, Sticky stiffened. "C-Cleo?" he asked fearfully.

"I'm sure it's not the same one," said Kate, patting his arm absentmindedly. "S.Q., _go on_."

"I let them in. They asked to make a phone call on our phone. While they were doing that, I went upstairs to alert Mr. Benedict and the rest of the adults. They got very upset and began form – _formulating _a plan," he said triumphantly. "For your safety."

"And then? What happened with the lights? Why did you grab Constance?"

"Wait – where _is _Constance?" asked Reynie in alarm. "Sticky?"

"I haven't seen her," Sticky said, reaching for the flashlight.

"I'm here," came a muffled voice. Constance was curled up on the ground. She'd pulled her hood up over her head and was clamping her hands over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. "I can hear them," she said miserably.

"Hear what?" yelped Sticky, beginning to hyperventilate.

"_Them._ McCracken. There's a girl with him. And another girl with her. They're on the third floor."

"Okay, okay, keep calm," Reynie said. "S.Q., what were your specific instructions?"

"I – I don't – I was supposed to sneak you children through the maze and Number Two and Mr. Benedict were to meet us."

"Meet us where?" asked Sticky hastily.

"Outside the maze."

Kate had a million questions, but Constance was whimpering in increasing discomfort on the floor and if there was one thing she'd learned, it was to make survival the number one priority. If they could just get out of the house, they'd be able to figure everything out later.

"Right," she said briskly. "Thank you, S.Q." She paused to see if anybody had noticed her clever rhyme, then, shaking her head, re-focused. "If Mr. Benedict wanted us to meet him, we should. Can you walk, Connie-girl?"

Constance made a small noise and started shaking. "It hurts," she whispered. "They're – they're…" She lapsed into silence.

"Is she okay?" asked Sticky in concern.

"Reynie?" Kate looked to him, at a loss.

He nodded resolutely at her. "It'll be fine," he said firmly, lifting Constance up. She stirred slightly, then quieted. "She must be overwhelmed with the thoughts of whatever evil is lurking upstairs."

"Thanks," Kate said appreciatively, turning to the rest of the group. "S.Q., do you know how to get through the maze?"

He hung his head. "Not a clue."

"It's alright," she said. "Sticky will help you – right, Sticky?" He looked positively terrified, but Kate knew that the only way to shake him out of his fright was to give him something to do.

"Okay," said Sticky stiffly. S.Q. took his hand trustingly, a gesture that moved him and alleviated some of his anxiety.

Kate reached for her bucket. "Reynie, you and Constance go first. Sticky, you lead S.Q. I'll be right back."

Before anyone could say anything, she whisked out of sight. They heard the telltale thump of a fallen man and, praying fervently that it wasn't one of theirs, waited anxiously for their friend.

"Maybe we should go without her," said Sticky, beginning to perspire.

"No, if she said she'll be right back, she'll be right back," maintained Reynie. "Give her a chance."

Sure enough, barely ten seconds later, she reappeared. "Number Two is outside with the car," she confirmed, "but I didn't see Mr. Benedict."

"Did you –" began Sticky, but Reynie stopped him. Pointing out the fact that Kate had somehow managed to dash through the maze, peer outside, and come back in less than half a minute was entirely arbitrary in the moment.

"Let's go," Reynie said somewhat grimly; Constance was still clearly agitated.

They scrambled through the maze in heated silence, trying to block out the sounds of whatever unknown battle was going on above. Even Kate felt her heart pounding in her chest; Milligan was up there, and goodness knew what awful things might be happening to him.

"We're here," panted Reynie finally, adjusting his hold on Constance, whose eyelids were beginning to flutter open. "If we can just…" He jiggled the doorknob, but it was locked. His shoulders sagged. "The key's upstairs."

Kate whipped out a pin and picked the lock in about five seconds. "Go, go, go," she said, pushing the others roughly outside. She checked to make sure nobody had trailed them, then followed suit, shutting the door and turning around in relief. "We made it!"

But they hadn't. Standing there, just as disturbing as ever, was Mackenzie McCracken. She didn't smile, she didn't blink; she merely gazed at them. There was a silent threat, a challenge, concealed behind her level stare. And standing next to her was Cleopatra Valentine.

**So, I hope you guys liked that, and I'm so sorry for the lag in updates. Next week I'll be more free so I'll try to post more. Let me know what you thought in the reviews!**


	20. Chapter 21

**Hey guys, so so so sorry for the delay. I think I'm going to not do the whole POV thing for now since things are getting more action-y and it's best to use third person omniscient. But when there are Kaynie moments, and there will be, I'll do POVs.**

**Enjoy and review!**

"Cleo?" Sticky asked in disbelief. Looking distressed, she opened her mouth to say something, but Mackenzie quickly elbowed her, saying sharply,

"Don't talk." She turned to the kids and said in a flat, insincere voice, "Nice to meet you."

"S.Q.?" Kate looked back anxiously, but he'd disappeared.

Constance opened her eyes, beginning to recover; when she realized that Reynie was holding her, she squirmed crossly out of his arms. Dusting her hands off, she stood up and froze, eyes narrowing at McCracken's daughter.

"You must be Constance." Mackenzie turned to Cleo. "Make sure she doesn't read my mind." Cleo nodded helplessly. "Let's see where my father is, shall we?" She pressed the button at the top of a radio at her hip and spun the volume dial all the way up. Through the static, sounds of a battle were apparent, and from what the children could hear, they weren't winning.

Sticky watched Cleo, mind spinning. He had liked her, _really _liked her. What was she doing, being involved with their worst enemy? She didn't look thrilled; in fact, she looked downright terrified. Had they dragged her into it against her will?

Reynie, for his part, was already scheming. Mackenzie's demeanor was unusually cool, which meant that if they could somehowmake her excitable or catch her off guard, she might become vulnerable. Similar to Ledroptha Curtain, her weaknesses would become apparent once she was agitated in some way.

He looked over at Kate, who nodded curtly at him. She had come to the same realization. They held eye contact for a moment, both of them grasping the seriousness of the situation. This was no game; this was a reprise – a carefully-schemed, well-planned ambush. And unless they did something, the bad guys might win permanently this time.

But how were they going to distract Mackenzie enough so that they could run away, or carry out whatever brash plan they might formulate in desperation? If they could just create a sound diversion…

Before Reynie or Kate could make a move, Sticky blurted out, "Cleo?"

"I'm sorry!" wailed Cleo. Mackenzie glared at her. "I'm sorry," she repeated meekly. "Sticky – I wasn't – I didn't mean to."

"I don't understand," said Sticky, wildly pacing back and forth. "What – why are you with _them?_ I thought we were friends!"

"Oh, we were, we were," said Cleo plaintively. "I mean – my parents are friends with the McCrackens and when they asked me if –"

"Enough," snapped Mackenzie. "You're irritating me. Just be quiet."

"Okay." Cleo stared at her shoes, sneaking a doleful glance up at an outraged Sticky.

"I can't believe it," he said frostily. "My feelings are legitimately hurt. You realize that, right?"

"I'm sorry! I had no idea you were involved in this, I thought it was a mission, and Kenzie's dad is paying us for –"

"I don't care," muttered Sticky.

"If you follow me," Mackenzie said monotonously, allowing a thin, satisfied smirk at the way things between her minion and prisoner were transpiring, "you'll be fine." She gave a wide, eerily saccharine smile. "If you don't, well…" She flicked the radio on and spun the volume all the way up again. "I would say that my darling father is winning this one, guys. Sorry." She tilted her head for a moment, strangely engrossed in the sounds of the battle. Was that _wistfulness _Reynie glimpsed on her face? Was she upset? Did she _want _to be in the thick of it, in the midst of the fight?

Why was it still waging, anyways? It'd been a long time – too long. Kate thought swiftly of Milligan. He'd jumped off the building to save her life. He was her idol, her hero, everything she wanted to be someday. He was her _dad_. She too had caught the longing glimmer in Mackenzie's strangely blank eyes, and couldn't suppress a marginal amount of empathy. Sides notwithstanding, Mackenzie and McCracken were as much a father/daughter duo as Kate and Milligan, and it would not be surprising for Mackenzie to share the same yearning to join him in battle.

The radio was making a lot of noise. It hit Reynie and Kate simultaneously. Without a spoken word, accustomed as they were to the delicate maneuver of thwarting an enemy, they moved subtly closer to each other. Mackenzie remained absorbed in the radio, and while she kept a close eye on the others, her mind was elsewhere. "Tell Sticky to start yelling," Reynie murmured to Kate.

She nudged Sticky, gesturing to the two girls before them. "Make a distraction."

"What are you doing?" barked Mackenzie, coming out of her reverie. "Be quiet."

Sticky, to everyone's surprise, had balled his hands into tight fists and, as scrawny as he was, mustered up all the power he could and looked positively furious. Mackenzie took a step back, momentarily alarmed as he began shouting. "I can't believe you did this! You are the most repulsive young women I've ever met! Your stratagem was ineffectual, and when we are done with you you'll be sorry you ever contrived to overthrow and bamboozle the Benedict Society!"

"Listen here," snarled Mackenzie, quickly recovering. Her eyes had turned almost reddish, nostrils flared. Kate gave Reynie a thumbs up. Constance, eyes alight with childish hope, shuffled closer to the other two as Sticky continued to rage at Mackenzie and Cleo in as affected and noisy a manner as he could muster.

"If we run," whispered Kate, "she's going to run after us. And chances are, there are Ten Men – or whoever these people are – waiting around the corner."

"There are," said Constance shakily. "I – they're there, they're waiting, they have weapons. They're… excited." She groaned. "They're loud."

"Okay," said Reynie hastily, before Constance had to endure any more of this, "they're probably assuming that we'll either go with Mackenzie or put up a fight. They've got us cornered right now. That's okay. We'll come up with an alternate plan. Kate, is there any way you can get inside?"

She contemplated the wall behind them. "There's a tiny bit of a pipe sticking out of the plaster up there," she speculated, "and I might be able to make it to the roof if I could be quick enough."

"You'll be quick enough," said Reynie confidently. "Right. If you can get Constance up to the roof, Sticky and I will stay behind to fend off the others. You get away from here, from the house. We'll try to find out where Number Two was taken, and –" Kate kicked his shin, hard. "Ow!"

"Are you an idiot? I'm not leaving you guys behind! And we aren't abandoning Number Two or Mr. Benedict! They're our family! This is our house!" She had that blazing, lioness look in her eyes that made it abundantly clear that any argument on the matter was futile.

Reynie felt a broad grin spread across his face. Kate was so… great. So fiercely independent. She was – he stopped himself. "Okay, okay." Sticky hadn't run out of steam yet, and he'd broken through Mackenzie's aloof facade, but Cleo made eye contact with him. She faltered; he held his breath. All she had to do was bring attention to them and it would be over.

But she didn't. Sticky was right about her: she was a good one. Allied with the enemy against her will. His frustration with her betrayal mollified for the moment, Reynie spoke hurriedly.

"New plan," he said. "We'll all get onto the roof. I know that the Ten Men will follow us up there in a heartbeat, but if we're quick enough, we can evade them. There's a ladder stuck to the back outside wall of the house that they don't know about. Kate and I found it a couple days ago. If we can get down there…"

"We've got to loop back and save the ones inside," Kate said stoutly. "Miss Perumal, Mr. and Mrs. Washington, Rhonda? Milligan? Oh, Milligan." She buried her face in her hands, allowing herself a split second of worry before returning to the task at hand. Constance was eyeing Cleo, an unnamable expression of pain glistening in her gaze. "We've got to get Constance out of here," she muttered to Reynie, both looking at the girl. "Can you –"

"Kate, I'm not going to leave you," Reynie said firmly. "If you're going to go back, I'm going with you."

She bit her lip, torn. "Reynie…"

"Hey!" shouted Mackenzie, finally noticing them. "What are you doing?"

"I – nothing – we aren't doing anything," stammered Reynie.

"Oh, I see." A sinister leer grew on her face. "You shouldn't have done that." She gave a shrill whistle, and all of a sudden Kate had her rope around the pipe and, seizing Constance around the waist, scrambled up it in no time at all.

"Reynie!" she called down as, sure enough, five well-dressed men ambled over. "Sticky!"

Reynie was right on her heels and pulled the rope up quickly before the men could follow. "Where's Sticky?" he asked in alarm.

"Sticky!" yelled Kate, peering over the edge. He was surrounded by them, trembling.

"Kate! Reynie! Constance!" he cried out. "Help me!"

Kate resolutely reached into her bucket. "I'm going down," she said.

"No – Kate – you're putting yourself in danger!" said Reynie desperately.

"Since when has that bothered me?" she asked, winking at him, and, grabbing a miniature pick axe Milligan had contributed to her new and improved inventory, she notched it into the flat wall below them and climbed down in no time at all.

"She's going to die," Constance said conversationally.

"Don't say that!" said Reynie angrily. Then, grudgingly, he asked, "Are you alright?"

She made a face. "I was considering using my talents on Mackenzie. Wouldn't it be amusing to watch her eat slugs?"

Reynie gave a tight smile. "I'm sure."

Constance shot him a resigned look, acknowledging somehow that she was no longer a petulant three-year-old, and that these circumstances were… dire at best.

There was a loud thump and they both raced anxiously to peer down at the situation. Kate had landed on the ground like a cat, lassoing one of the men and shooting a marble at another with her slingshot. She'd seized Sticky's arm, poised to fend off more.

Mackenzie snapped her fingers casually. "Reinforcement!" she called. To Reynie's horror, she pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one, exhaling smoke rings through her nose.

"Yuck," said Constance.

Sticky, appalled, couldn't resist starting, "Do you have any idea how detrimental to your health one cigarette can be? Your lungs are rotting as we speak, and –"

Rolling her eyes, Mackenzie snapped her fingers again impatiently. "We haven't got all day," she said drily.

Five more men materialized, nonchalantly whistling as they ripped Sticky out of Kate's grasp in one fluid movement. His struggle against their arms, which were as impenetrable as steel, was futile.

"Take him away," Mackenzie ordered. One of the men dragged him off.

"Sticky!" cried Reynie. "Kate!"

Kate was trying to make her way through the men to grab Sticky, but they had her pinned down and were slickly withdrawing the pencils that the children had hoped never to see again.

She punched one of the men in the face and, scrabbling inside her bucket, wrapped her hand around a heavy, smooth paperweight she'd intended to give to Miss Perumal for her birthday but had misplaced and forgotten about until now. She tucked this into her left hand, taking a blow dart gun in her right, and just as they were advancing, she spun around, aimed and blew five darts out, each of which neatly found its target. It took the men only a little time to recover, at which point she had wrestled herself out of their grip and, sprinting backwards, hurled the paperweight at the remaining, uninjured two. It knocked them both out; the second man was unable to get out of the way fast enough.

She gave a satisfied nod as she scampered up the wall. It took her a second before she realized that she'd only taken out seven out of ten. One had Sticky, which left two more…

"Reynie!" she screamed as two sets of hands appeared on the edge of the roof, cuff links clinking. In what seemed like excruciatingly slow motion, Reynie grabbed Constance and scrambled down the ladder on the back, followed by Kate. A barrage of pencils followed her, but she'd prepared for this and strategically employed the metal of her bucket as a shield, rotating to meet each one. With a mock apologetic look, she followed Reynie and Constance out of sight.

With no time to think or process anything, Kate instinctively heaved Constance up onto her back and reached for Reynie's hand. They ran for it, street after street, turn after turn, block after block, until their lungs – well, Reynie's; Kate wasn't sweating a drop – were about to explode, and suddenly they were at a dead end.

"Kate – what are we –"

"Relax," said Kate. "Constance, you know what you're doing?"

Constance nodded solemnly.

"What are you talking about?" asked Reynie, bemused. "Sticky's – they kidnapped Sticky!"

"I know, I know," said Kate shakily. "I – Constance, explain. I'll set up back here." She set off into the woodsy area that the road dipped down into.

Reynie started after her. "Kate – what's – you can't leave!"

"I'm fine," she reassured him, patting her bucket confidently.

"I – Constance?"

Brow knotted, she sighed, suddenly sounding much older. "Mr. Benedict's been teaching me a lot the past few weeks," she said, "and most of it is stupid. Actually, all of it." She cocked her head in contemplation of precisely how stupid all of it was. "It's a complete waste of time. But… well, one of the things we've learned is that I have a similar memory to Sticky. That's part of my intelligence. So, like, I can remember places… and things."

"What does that mean?" asked Reynie agitatedly.

"It _means_, I can use my sixth sense, or whatever, to find… locations. And remember them."

He looked blankly at her. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Reynie, think about it. Have you ever been here before?"

"No…"

"Exactly," she said, as if it should be perfectly obvious. "I directed us here."

"What do you mean, 'directed'?"

"You know I can talk into your mind, or – or send messages, or whatever."

He nodded.

"So I told Kate where to go. I had a place in mind and I… sent her – us – there."

"Wait a minute. You're telling me that you entered Kate's _mind_ and became a GPS?"

She scrunched up her nose. "What's that?"

He shook his head. "Forget about it. So… why this place?"

"Well, Mr. Benedict has been making me memorize all these old maps, kind of like treasure maps, only for runaways and… people like us, I suppose. They'd marked off all these complicated winding roads and hideout spots. I was supposed to memorize it, just for the sake of his dumb exercises. I didn't realize until now that he'd intended for me to actually use that knowledge. It makes sense, though, right?"

"Right," said Reynie, his mind spinning. "So this is one of the places on those maps? A safe spot?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"You're growing up, Constance," said Reynie, smiling at her.

"Shut up," she said, sticking her tongue out at him and scowling.

"So where's Kate now?" he asked, climbing up on a large stone block and nervously attempting to see where she'd gone.

"Setting up," said Constance brusquely. She did _not _like being told that she was growing up. After all, she was still only a little child and "growing up" seemed to put much more responsibility on her shoulders than she was comfortable with.

"Care to elaborate?"

She'd just opened her mouth, having cleverly composed a poem simultaneously insulting Reynie's intelligence and explaining what Kate was doing when there was a scream.

Kate's scream.

Kate Wetherall never screamed unless it was really, really bad.

"Wait!" shouted Constance, but Reynie had already sprung into action, sprinting into the woods. "This is bad," she said to herself, turning away and trying desperately to reach Sticky through her mind. Before she could summon the concentration to do this, there was a hand on her shoulder. Despite herself, she emitted a fearful squeak. Looking up, she recognized the girl from earlier. What was her name?

"Come with me," said Cleo. "Please, if you just come with me… no one will get hurt."

**So that's that! Sorry I took so long. Thank you for your suggestions/entries to my contest!**

**I decided Constance should be a little more involved this time around, and I believe someone asked for that in a review, so yeah. I'm super psyched to hear what y'all thought of this chapter because it took me ages and I really do suck at writing action scenes. Hope you liked it!**


	21. Chapter 22

**Since author's notes are somewhat insignificant, starting next chapter, all my obnoxious ramblings will be posted at the end so the beginning isn't too chatty.**

"Where are you taking me?" asked Sticky, trembling. His captor said nothing. A couple seconds later, a blindfold was roughly knotted around his head, rope around his wrists, and he was ruthlessly tossed onto a hard, flat surface.

This turned out to be the bed of some type of vehicle; there was the sound of a revving motor, and he lurched forward before regaining his balance.

The ride lasted only a short while. It was late afternoon at this point, and where the sun would normally be beating down, uncomfortably hot, everything around here was cool.

"Get out," grunted the man.

Sticky wrestled against his bindings to no avail.

"Now!"

He stumbled off of the vehicle and was shoved brusquely forth. "W-What are you doing?" he stammered.

"Keep your mouth shut," he was advised, and suddenly a metal door clanged, a padlock clicked, and he was… alone?

"Hello?" whispered Sticky, unable to produce a louder sound. Nobody answered. Nervously pacing around, unable to see, he came to the conclusion that he was indeed by himself, at least for now.

Was this all his fault? He slumped to the floor, leaning against a wall of cool, uneven, flimsy-feeling material. And Cleo…

He flinched, thinking about her. He'd kept quiet about it around his friends, and even Reynie had the tact – or adequate distraction; he and Kate were numbskulls if they thought he hadn't noticed their, well, whatever it was – not to question him further. They knew he liked her. That was that.

Except it wasn't. Cleo was… perfect. She was highly intellectual, but in a bright, inquisitive, slightly shy and very endearing manner. Nobody teased her anymore, of course – in fact, her wittiness and confidence quickly won over the class – and she was, from what he observed, relatively popular. Unaccustomed as he may be to social situations, even Sticky understood that the fact that she spent so much time around him, the outcast, was something.

Or so he thought. Now, he wasn't sure of anything. Exhaling loudly, he buried his head in his knees, as his hands were currently pinned behind his back. If only Kate or Reynie were here. Or Constance, even. Anyone who was good at this type of thing: at figuring out where they were, how they got there, and what they must do in order to escape.

The lock screeched, a high, metallic sound that made Sticky's ears ache.

"H-Hello?" he asked nervously, aware that his eye was twitching.

The door slowly slid open. Was he in some sort of sketchy storage unit? One of those thin-walled sheds that people store rusty old gardening tools and long-forgotten memorabilia in?

A girl's voice said softly, "Take off the blindfold." Sticky started. It was Cleo, he was sure of it.

Another voice he identified from earlier said gruffly, "But he said to –"

"I know. Take it off."

Two begrudging hands reached over Sticky's head and unknotted it. Blinded momentarily, he blinked several times. When his eyes had re-focused, the door was shut and Cleo was standing there, a very defiant Constance by her side. The little girl's lower lip trembled, however, belying the fear that was quite natural when your three best friends are taken captive by a rather threatening crowd – a crowd, no less, that you had incorrectly thought yourselves to have eliminated already.

"Hey," she said timidly.

Sticky did his best to look unforgiving and frigid, but only succeeded in appearing confused and frightened (both emotions of which he was certainly feeling as well). "So are you going to tell us what's happening?" he asked.

"I don't know that much," she said pleadingly. "I was pulled into this – the McCrackens are family friends and when my dad lost his job we needed the money that Mr. McCracken paid us if I did him and Kenzie a favor. I had no idea you were involved – I'm sorry – I didn't know that –"

"That this was a group of evil, despicable men with absolutely no motive to try to overpower us? For heaven's sake, they have pencils that can kill you! Pencils!"

"I know, I know," said Cleo, running her fingers through her hair in dismay. "But there's no way out of it – don't you see?"

"You could try just _not _doing what you were told to," said Sticky, beginning to get frustrated. "Has that occurred to you?"

"Well, as I was supposed to keep you blindfolded and bound and relay the message McCracken asked me to, I'd say it has, and I've already put my life on the line."

"Oh please," butted it Constance crossly. "You have no clue what it's like to put your life on the line. Do you have _any _idea what the Society has done? We risked our lives time and time again for the 'greater good' or whatever you want to call it, and we beat these guys. Ledroptha Curtain isn't even – well, is he involved?"

Cleo gave a blank expression. "Who?"

"There," said Constance in satisfaction. "Curtain isn't even involved, so why in the world would McCracken be so intent on kidnapping us and doing exactly what we did to him not too long ago?"

"It's revenge," said Sticky quietly. "It has to be. What other explanation is there?"

"You think so?" Constance looked at him imploringly. "This is all to avenge his imprisonment?"

"What other reason could there be?"

Cleo was wringing her hands at this point. When the two others looked at her expectantly, she shook her head. "I can't weigh in on this one," she said, sounding a bit more like her old self – or at least the Cleo that Sticky thought he knew.

"Well, can you tell us what's happening – oh." A half-smile spread across Constance's face, her head tilted. "You might want to put the blindfold back on – too late."

A second later, before Sticky or Cleo could do anything, the door slid open, revealing Mackenzie. She stood with arms akimbo in the entrance for a moment.

"Hello," she said evenly. Sticky shivered, then glanced at Constance. Why had she smiled? Shouldn't she be – well, not trembling, but worried? But no, she was watching the girl in near amusement.

"Hi," said Cleo, taking a long, shuddery breath.

"How are our… friends?" asked Mackenzie.

"Good," squeaked Sticky.

"I doubt that," Mackenzie said simply. "Didn't see this coming, did you?"

"Where are Reynie and Kate and S.Q.?" asked Constance loudly.

"I'm afraid your partners in crime were compensated on the way over." A truck rumbled distantly down a road which proved to be covered in gravel. "Oh, look, here they are."

"Sticky?" came a muffled voice. "Constance?"

"Reynie!" shouted Sticky. "Are you alright?"

Mackenzie raised an eyebrow. "Now, we can't have _that_," she said, and whistled sharply. The driver leapt out of the van, carrying a familiar-looking paperweight. There was a thump and he emerged a moment later. "All better," he said, winking at the kids. Sticky was horrified.

"Make sure they're quiet," ordered Mackenzie.

_They. _So it wasn't just Reynie, thought Sticky. Were Kate and S.Q. in the van too? He peeked at Constance again. She looked bored.

"So," began Mackenzie, sliding the door shut and locking it from the inside. "You two have been very… naughty. And father _hates _naughty children."

"You're _my_ age!" burst out Sticky. "How can you call us –" Behind Mackenzie, Cleo shook her head in a subtle warning. He clamped his mouth shut.

McCracken's daughter gave a thin, haughty smirk. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Unfortunately, the opportunity to do this the easy way is long gone. You could've chosen it earlier and you didn't. Your loss."

"We went with you!" protested Sticky. "We came willingly!"

"You friend Kate did not," pointed out Mackenzie. "That is, by the way, the reason you will not find her in the van. We took her someplace special."

"Kenzie…" Cleo shot her a beseeching look. "Please?"

Mackenzie rolled her eyes. "What a disappointment," she said, speaking in that cool, level, unnerving tone. Turning back to Sticky, she continued, "At any rate, if you don't want to get hurt – or, should I say, if you want to survive –"

Constance, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor and scowling, suddenly leapt up, beaming. The door was ripped open with a loud, deafening sound of reluctant metal scraping against a cement floor, and before anybody could say or do anything, there was a flash of blond hair, a glint of steel, and Mackenzie fell to the floor. Kate Wetherall – black-eyed, bruised, and scraped up – stood triumphantly where her victim had just moments ago.

"Kate!" cried Sticky, throwing his arms around her jubilantly.

"You're welcome," she said, grinning and giving him a painful squeeze in return. Looking down at Constance, she said in mild wonder, "You knew I was coming, didn't you?"

Constance nodded.

Kate ruffled up her hair. "Good call, Connie-girl." Surveying the scene, she brushed off her hands and gave a heavy sigh. "I really didn't want to have to resort to this, but McCracken's men were being positively aggravating."

"You knocked her out with your bucket," Sticky noted. "I'm impressed."

"Well, this is a hardy little guy," said Kate, inspecting it ruefully. "I do hope no permanent damage was done."

"I'm sure Mackenzie will be fine," said Sticky consolingly.

She gave him a confused look. "Oh, no – I was talking about the bucket."

Not quite sure how to respond to the fact that his friend had just rendered their arch enemy's daughter unconscious and was far more concerned about the precious weapon she'd used to carry out this feat, Sticky asked anxiously, "But there was a man in the truck – the van –"

"I got him with another dart," she said smartly. "We'd better run, though." Her brow knotted up. "What are you doing here?" she asked, looking at Cleo keenly.

"I'm not really sure," said Cleo with a small, uncertain laugh.

"Well, are you coming with us?"

"I –" She glanced over at Sticky, who resolutely fixed his gaze on the wall across from him. "Okay, I'll come."

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, we have an evil band to defeat and some loved ones to save. Manageable, but we've got to get a move on."

**Hope the ending wasn't too abrupt, but I'm starting right now on the next chapter.**

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the positive reviews! Yay I don't suck at writing action scenes!**

**For someone who basically has no life, I'm surprised at and apologetic for how little time I spend on writing right now. I have no idea why. So, sorry. I will continue to update as soon as possible. **

**To answer one of the questions in the reviews, I actually wrote it since I'd already done like 80% of it when I announced the contest, but I did and will incorporate some reader-submitted ideas in this chapter and so on.**

**Just so you know, I think this contest thing is awesome, so I'm leaving it open-ended. If you PM me something I really like and use, I'll write you a one-shot.**

**I'd just like to say that you guys rock. This fic has been so fun to write, and it's gone on beyond my wildest dreams! The fact that people enjoy my writing and stuff means so much to me. I love sharing it and it makes my day whenever I get a review. Although this fic isn't going to be over anytime soon, I hope once it is done you'll still follow my other stories and whatever other writing things I decide to do.**


	22. Chapter 23

**Kate**

"Reynie and S.Q. are in the van," said Sticky as they hurried out. "The guy knocked them out with a paperweight."

Kate stopped abruptly, causing the others to trip. Constance tumbled over, but Cleo grabbed her hand and she didn't take too much of a fall. "Reynie's unconscious?" she asked quickly.

Sticky nodded. "And S.Q."

"We've got to get this door unlocked," she said urgently, striding over to the back of the vehicle and reaching for a scrap of wire, which she inserted easily into the lock and, with practiced hands, coerced the mechanism into springing open. She was grateful for the ten seconds that this task took her, as it provided an excuse to hide her face. Why was her heart pounding? She shook her head. These thoughts and feelings were impossible to control, and seemed to crop up at the most inconvenient of times. Regardless, this was not the right moment to contemplate them, and so, Constance stumbling along behind, Kate threw open the doors.

Reynie looked up groggily as they stampeded into the rear of the automobile.

"Reynie!" cried Kate, rushing to his side. Cleo raised an eyebrow subtly at Sticky, to which he, still hurt and confused, did not deign to respond.

"Kate – Sticky – what are you doing here?" asked Reynie, struggling to sit up. Kate reached for his hand and, with uncharacteristic gentleness, tugged him into an upright position. Then she knelt by his side, concern knotting her forehead.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked for the hundredth time.

Reynie gave a weak smile, lightly punching her in the shoulder. "I'm fine," he insisted. She said nothing, but gripped his hand – which she had not relinquished – tighter.

"We have to get out of here," Cleo said firmly, seeing that Kate was preoccupied and deciding that this was the time to redeem herself. "I have no idea when Mackenzie's going to hear about this – or McCracken – but this'll be the first place they'll search." She glanced at Sticky, who gave an imperceptible nod of assent, and at Kate, who seemed much more focused on Reynie's well-being than anything else, but jumped when Cleo tapped her.

"Right," she said, reluctantly letting go of Reynie and striding over to stand beside the other three.

"S.Q., are you alright?" asked Sticky, trying to rouse the young man, who, slumped over, looked like a comically oversized bundle of sticks. Except comedy did not exist in the situation – the world, for all they knew – that these children had entered. No, Cleo was right: the priority was to leave as quickly as they could, and somehow complete the impossible task of finding Mr. Benedict.

S.Q. wasn't moving. Constance banged on his arm with her fist, infuriated. "Move!" she shouted. "For god's sake, we have to get _out_ of here!"

"Constance," said Kate, coming behind her. "Stop it."

"Do you think he's still unconscious?" murmured Cleo to Sticky.

"Well, he's obviously not awake," he snapped back, regretting his tone the moment the words left his mouth. It occurred to him barely a second later that this query, spoken directly to him, was some sort of modest peace treaty. They were all in this together, after all. Wishing to amend the situation, he opened his mouth to say something, but Cleo, affronted, took a few steps away from him and turned her head away, a veil of her beautiful, thick hair placing a boundary between them.

"Is he okay?" asked Reynie anxiously, stumbling to his feet. Kate looked at him sharply, ready to help, but he remained standing, if a little unsteady.

"What if…?" asked Cleo softly.

Kate's face twisted into a combination of rage and despair. "If they did this to him, I – we – will _hunt them down._"

"They didn't," said Reynie in a hushed voice. "Oh, they couldn't. I was fine, I was knocked out as hard as he was."

Constance resumed beating on S.Q.'s arm, mercilessly yelling at him to get up.

Cleo reached out and touched the girl's shoulder. "He's…"

Constance turned and glared at her. "Is anyone else going to help me or what?"

"She doesn't understand," said Cleo in an undertone.

"Understand what?" snarled Constance. "All I know is that S.Q.'s lazing around, slacking on his job – which is to _protect_ us – and it's not fair." She crossed her arms. "This is just _great._ He gets to sleep, while I'm just as tired as him and –"

The older children exchanged looks. Did Constance, who was clearly wise beyond her years, fail to grasp the seriousness of this development? For whatever reason, S.Q. wasn't getting up. He ought to have; as Reynie pointed out, _he _was fine, but S.Q. just… wasn't.

All of a sudden, a loud noise erupted from somewhere within the van. It sounded like an engine revving up, and then stopping – and then starting up again.

Kate thrust a hand inside her bucket and spun around, ready to face another ten man on a motorcycle, when Constance said in frustration,

"Oh, great. And now he's _snoring!_" She set herself on the ground, scowling.

"What?" asked Reynie quickly.

"Stupid S.Q.!"

They all turned and looked towards the young man and, lo and behold, he _was_ snoring.

A wave of relief swept over the group. Here they'd been thinking – well, the most horrible things had been crossing their minds – and S.Q. was truly… sleeping?

He snored again, then made some sort of chugging sound and let out a wide yawn. He pushed himself up against the side of the van with his arms, then brought his hands up to his face and practically rubbed his eyes straight out of his head. Yawning once more, he stood up, good as new.

"Hello," he said pleasantly.

**A/N: So, obviously this was a short one, but since I haven't updated in awhile I wanted to leave you all with **_**something**_**.**

**The next chapter will be a direct continuation, from Reynie's point of view, since one of my reviewers requested that I put in some more Kaynie moments now. Don't worry – I will, and I hope you liked the little bit I put in here. Some of you may have issues with her temperament shifting in the way that it does here, but I personally believe that at some point or other she will have at least a moment where she isn't the overgrown, boisterous twelve-year-old she once was. And it will definitely shift back to the Kate we know and love.**

**Oh, and there's going to be some more storyline with Cleo and Sticky, but of course this can't be a good story without having a good amount of conflict! **

**On that topic, I have a question: do you want to see these two develop as well? Although this is primarily a Kaynie story, or at least started out as one, I'm kind of enjoying this couple as well and am curious if you'd like to start officially shipping them together. I guess their couple name would be… Clicky. Ha!**

**Definitely review, let me know what you think, but please try to keep it constructive, not petty, as detailed as you wish, and to the lovely anonymous reviewer who left a comment saying, I believe, "FUCK YOU BITCH THIS IS FUCKING HORRIBLE," or something along those lines – bye! :)**


	23. Chapter 24

_[FYI to new readers, I always put the A/N at the end]_

**Reynie**

It took them a few moments to register the fact that S.Q. Pedalian was, in fact, quite alive, and rather more discombobulated than usual, but Cleo – over-eager to prove herself, in Reynie's opinion – quickly took charge.

"Let's go," she said somewhat forcefully, herding them out of the van. Reynie found himself jostled next to Kate, who for some reason stared resolutely at the ground, twisting her fingers together and biting her lip.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

"What? Oh – yeah – fine," she said quickly. There was a beat of silence, save for the crunch of their shoes on gravel, and then she asked, "What?"

"What?" Reynie shook his head, realizing too late that he'd been, well, staring at her. Not that he hadn't caught himself at this before, but normally this was from afar. "Nothing." They made eye contact for a split second, then both hurriedly looked away.

Kate, whose cheeks were turning slightly pink, sped up to the head of their straggly line and asked Cleo a question to which she shook her head. Constance came up next to him.

"I tried to read her, you know," she said seriously.

"Who?"

"That girl. Cleo, or whatever. I tried to get in, but… she was, I don't know, unreadable."

"What do you mean?"

Constance frowned. "It wasn't like I couldn't get in because I wasn't trying hard enough. It was just like… I got there, and there was a wall."

"Did she know you were trying to read her?"

"Well, I assume she did. It was a bit obvious – I mean, I attempted to hide it, but it's really hard to pretend not to be staring at someone when they're looking back at you."

"Isn't that the truth," muttered Reynie, thinking back to his interaction with Kate a moment before.

"And I'm sure she knows of my 'talent', or whatever," continued Constance, bobbing up and down as she walked, "since Mackenzie told her about it, but she didn't try to look away. It was like she was inviting me in, except then… there was nothing."

"What do you mean?" He felt redundant, but didn't know what else to say.

Constance uttered a sound of frustration. "I don't know how to explain it." She paused. Reynie waited patiently. "Remember when Curtain was using the Whisperer on us, and we kept trying to think of other things? At least, I did. I told myself to think of cabbages, and boring things: anything but the answer to the questions he was asking."

Reynie nodded. "But that wasn't how it was with Cleo?"

Constance shook her head, bemused. "Not at all. She looked at me, and gave me that sad smile she keeps giving Sticky and everybody, like she knew there was something there that I couldn't break through. She let me try. It was almost like she _wanted_ me to succeed, but didn't expect me to, and wasn't disappointed when I couldn't." She took a deep breath, having released all this information at once. It was strangely exhausting, whenever words tumbled out of her mouth in a stream of miraculously coherent words. Mr. Benedict always told her that she would get used to it, but that sometimes her brain simply couldn't keep up with its own abilities.

Reynie's head was spinning. It was still unnerving to him when Constance spoke so eloquently; although he was no stranger to her precociousness, she did, after all, have the appearance of a disgruntled seven-year-old.

Much more pressing, however, was the content of what she'd just divulged to him. His contact with Cleo had been minimal at best, and what little he knew of her character was only thanks to Sticky's late-night monologues and verbal musings, which Reynie half-heartedly listened to while waiting for sleep to set in.

So Cleo had a wall up. It was a strange statement indeed. _Of course_, he thought, _I suppose that everybody has a "wall" of sorts in their mind. That's what protects them from pain. That's what protected Constance from the truth about the first two years of her life. That's proof enough._

It made sense. Obviously, his curiosity was piqued, but he decided that the best course of action right now was probably not to dwell too much on it, at least until they were out of immediate danger.

Speaking of which, they were now turning onto a paved road with no one in sight. Cleo came to an abrupt halt.

"Do you know where we're going?" asked Sticky.

"Where are we?" said S.Q., blinking and rubbing his eyes as if he'd only just woken up.

"Yeah, not to state the obvious, but I don't recognize where we are," Kate added.

"Hold on," muttered Cleo, wracking her brains. She paced for ten seconds, then stood squarely in front of them. "Okay, this didn't occur to me until now." She faltered, then explained, "Mackenzie's been leaking information to me since we became friends. I guess she thought she was just making conversation with a future partner-in-crime, but I think we can use that to our advantage. This place" – she gestured to the vicinity, though all that was visible was a flat, smooth road that went on a bit before dipping into a hill – "is some sort of headquarters. If we sneak in, we might be able to get information on the people you're looking for."

Reynie was taken aback, as were the others. "Are you sure?" he asked warily. "This doesn't look very promising, and if the Ten Men catch up with us…"

"Yeah," agreed Sticky, "it could easily be a trap!" He began perspiring at the mere thought of it, and ran a hand over his brow.

S.Q. nodded fervently. "I thought the whole point of this was to get _away_ from those men."

Cleo shrugged helplessly. "Look, it's our best bet. Because I don't know where to go from here."

"Constance?" asked Reynie. "What do you think?"

"Do you have, like, a _feeling_?" chimed in Sticky.

"Yeah, I'm hungry," grumbled Constance. "And this looks stupid."

"You seriously have nothing more to say on the matter?" said Sticky somewhat snappishly. He was still easily aggravated by the little girl. "Wow, that's just _so_ enlightening, I –"

Glaring at him, Constance rolled her eyes and said, "Well, I can tell you that Cleo's telling the truth. She's right."

"What do you mean?" asked Reynie quickly, for the third time and feeling rather foolish.

Cleo gave a thin smile. "I'm telling the truth. This is the place. If we go, we probably risk a lot, but if we don't, we're probably giving up. It's your choice."

Kate rubbed her hands together, grinning. "So we're talking breaking into top secret bad guy headquarters, maybe roughing up a few Ten Men while we're at it, hacking into computers and getting ahold of data in an illegal manner, all to find our friends?"

"And risking our lives in the process," Reynie reminded her, those bizarre new protective instincts kicking in, even though he knew that the last person to need protection was Kate Wetherall. It was confusing, but he _was _sure of one thing: if Kate got hurt, he'd throw himself in front of a bus if it meant he had a chance of saving her.

Which was somewhat humiliating, because why in the world would she ever want that?

Kate, thankfully unaware of these thoughts, beamed at him. "Exactly," she said. "I'm in."

**A/N: **

Yes, I know my author's notes are probably just as long as the chapter, and I'm sorry if that's misleading, but I'm a person who constantly likes to have discussions, and I like talking to you guys about what I'm writing. But if this is annoying to you, feel free to X out now. :)

I hope you liked this chapter! Shoot me a review and tell me what you think/what you want to see next! I really do try to incorporate all of you faithful fans' ideas into my fic.

I tried to take what somebody requested – that I delve a bit into Cleo's character – into account, but since I'd promised that this chapter would be Reynie POV, I had to slip it into his conversation with Constance instead of getting inside her head.

And I have a question! I know this isn't story-related, but I was talking to one of my awesome reviewers about this. We were saying that basically it would be great if MBS was made into a movie, like HP, but then it might ruin the spirit of our smaller fandom, since it would broaden the spectrum to include fans of the movies. Anyway, we got into the subject of casting, and I definitely have a casting list of who I'd like to play the various characters, so I was thinking, if any of you were curious about that, I could share it somehow, and then you guys could tell me who you'd choose. Of course, I don't want to break any rules, so don't yell at me for this. Just trying to make this more interactive. :) Let me know in the review section.

Thank you so much for all of the reviews I've been getting! Honestly, it means a lot, even and especially the ones I get yelling POST POST POST. It makes me feel so happy inside.

I figured since most of you are Guest reviewers, I'd try to respond to your reviews here, at least some of them. So. *scrolls through reviews*

VeeAmAy: Yay! A solid review. This made me smile. I did wrestle a bit while trying to figure out how I wanted Reynie's character to be, but decided ultimately that he would have changed at least a little bit, and probably most out of the MBS, because while he is far from average, I've always felt that he would be most "normal" if he was placed in a high school scene – the least socially awkward of the four, if that makes sense. I appreciate your comment, though, and I also think that I intended to portray the girls "liking" him as in, OMG FRESH MEAT GIMME, and they don't care much. He's not unattractive, and I come from a small high school in a small town, so most girls go crazy over new guys until the novelty wears off. This makes the fact that Sophie legitimately likes him remarkable and reflects on her character.

Anonymous: First of all, thank you very much. Constance is around 7 years old, this being about 4 years after the first/second book, in which she was 2/3, Reynie was 11, Kate was 12, etc. As for the rating, I'm actually not sure – since it was a Kaynie fic to begin with I think it made it T as a precaution. Not that anything I write will be at all smutty or anything, but if you have a problem with romance/kissing scenes I wouldn't want someone to get upset or anything. Just being paranoid.

And I'd like to just give a quick thank you to StarbustAwesomeness and FictionStar24, because you guys are awesome and never fail to post reviews shortly after I update. 3


	24. Chapter 25

**Cleo**

Cleo led the group down the eerily monochromatic road, engulfed in a nondescript, gray something. None of them could place what it was that they were walking into, and they found themselves falling silent, wordless, plodding along like an assembly of docile sheep being led to their… well, whatever was to come.

She surveyed the area warily. Starting at the ruler-straight margins of this road, beds of stubby, splintered grass were splayed out in broad rows as far as the eye could see. Even the sky was a bland slate-colored blanket: not too stormy, not too fair.

Cleo tried unenthusiastically to make conversation, but, like the others, found that she had nothing to say. And so, resigned as they were, she kept quiet, brushing flyaway strands of hair out of her face when an imperceptible breeze pulled at her locks.

The truth was, she had no idea what she was doing. It went without saying, really, that Reynie had noticed this, and she was quite thankful for the fact that he did not bring it up, despite the looks he cast her every time she spoke.

As for Sticky, well… she turned to look at him, inspecting his profile, and found that he was looking back – out of the corner of his eye, of course, but still. For some reason, this made a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth despite the circumstances. To be perfectly honest, she had liked him, _truly _liked him, from the first day they'd met.

Goodness, that felt like ages ago.

In a wave of unexpected boldness, she gave him a quick nudge. He was visibly trembling, and when he caught her eye she mouthed, _It's okay. _This elicited a slow, wide grin on his part, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. When he nodded back at her, it was an unspoken "I forgive you."

"Now what?" asked Kate loudly, startling Cleo out of her reverie. They were standing at the top of a hill, and a large, heavily padlocked bar about ten feet high was directly in their way. A sheet of what appeared to be silver was seamlessly welded onto the underside, and it seemed as if this was driven directly into the ground. It was peppered with holes punched clumsily to create sinister gashes, edged in the daggers that erupt when a thin material is pounded through. As a matter of fact, this unforgiving stretch of metal extended from either sides, creating a boundary that the children could not easily penetrate.

"I could try to climb over," suggested S.Q. helpfully.

Kate and Cleo shot him equally dubious looks.

"Suppose you couldn't get back over," said Sticky anxiously.

"And how _would_ we get over, anyway?" Kate pointed out.

S.Q. hung his head. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Cleo said absent-mindedly.

"What do you have in your bucket?" asked Reynie of Kate.

She contemplated the challenge. "I mean, I could probably do it," she said. "But I can't promise that I could get the rest of you over – or that we'd be safe on the other side."

"Constance?" said Cleo, gesturing to the girl. "What do you think?"

"Do whatever you want," Constance snapped. She was getting sleepier and sleepier, for some reason, and looking at Cleo made her recall that sad, unyielding wall inside her head. It was dizzying.

Kate and Reynie exchanged a fleeting look of concern, and Kate said quickly, "I think I can do it." She began extracting a thick coil of rope from her bucket, then scrutinized the wall in front of her. "There's nothing to tie it to," she mused. This evidently was no setback, however, as she merely rummaged around some more and came up with a tube of superglue and a heavy horseshoe magnet. She deftly bound the rope around the loop of the magnet and swiftly brushed a thin layer of the glue onto the magnet's two feet. As the others watched in confusion, she took two steps back and threw the magnet over the top of the barricade, where it landed with a satisfying thump.

"This stuff sticks to any surface," she said cheerfully. "Give it five seconds to dry."

Impressed, they all watched as she counted under her breath and looped the other end of the rope around her waist. With a reassuring grin, she began climbing it easily, hand over hand in one fluid movement. Although the rope strained against her weight, it was adhered firmly on the other side and she cleared the bar in barely thirty seconds.

There was a pause, and they waited with bated breath. What if there were Ten Men? What if McCracken himself was there?

Then, thankfully, she called out, "All clear!" and, as an afterthought, "Hurry!"

The rope was tossed over to them; Reynie and S.Q. helped Constance up first, followed by Cleo, Sticky, Reynie, and S.Q.

"Cool," said Kate appreciatively. "Now what?"

Everyone looked to Cleo, who abruptly remembered that she was the one who'd taken charge in the first place. Here they were, so close to what could potentially be all the answers – but what could also be terrible, terrible danger. And Cleo was at the helm.

"Er – it can't be that far," she said. "Look, I think the doors are up there."

"So you're saying we should just… keep walking?" asked Sticky.

"Oh, great, it's not like we've been doing _that_ for the past million hours," said Constance, arms crossed.

Reynie shushed her and spoke up, "I don't see why not. We've come this far, haven't we?"

"Of course," said Kate, nodding. Cleo wondered vaguely why the two of them appeared unable to take their eyes off of each other, but shook her head, prioritizing. Right now, they had to get to the next – for lack of a better word – checkpoint, and face whatever perils that might entail.

The walk this time was much shorter; hardly three minutes had passed when they reached a small booth. It was black, opaque, and utterly boring save for a speaker through which somebody inside could ostensibly speak.

"Hello?" said Cleo, clearing her throat. Sticky tapped the side of the strangely-placed kiosk.

Everyone jumped when a deep, rather pleasant voice said, "Who is it?"

Kate opened her mouth to say something, but Reynie gently touched her arm and shook his head not to. He nodded at Cleo, who understood what needed to be done. It was the truest test of loyalty.

"Cleopatra Valentine," Cleo said shakily. "I'm… with McCracken."

"Who are the others?" the voice asked gruffly.

"Um – prisoners. No, accomplices. They're –" She looked helplessly to Sticky, who tried wildly to improvise as well.

"We all go to the same school as Mackenzie," he said in as confident a voice as he could muster, "and…" He faltered.

Reynie jumped in. "We're visiting McCracken today. Right now. For, um, educational purposes."

"We have his seal of approval," added Cleo. "You can look up my name, you can ask him, he knows me."

There was a pause, as if the person were deciding whether or not to trust these children – who, after all, had given extremely feeble excuses – but after what felt like an eternity, he slid a laminated card through a tiny slot near the bottom of the booth. "Your name is in the databases. I'll let Mr. McCracken know you're here."

The gate in front of them raised, and they filed through. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, there was a building.

It was large, square, and constructed almost entirely of cement with steel fixtures. Not the most welcoming of structures, but certainly nothing overly ominous. The front was wholly occupied by a gigantic frosted glass set of doors. The group stopped short in front of it, hovering on the sidewalk, which had merged into perfectly circular cobblestones in the same drab hue as everything else in this disturbing place.

"Should we go in?" asked Sticky in a hushed voice.

"I say we go for it," put in Reynie, jaw set.

S.Q. scratched his head, looking, as usual, like he didn't know exactly how he'd gotten there, and Constance shrugged. "I'm too tired to think straight," she managed to say, struggling to keep her eyes open.

Noticing this, Kate hitched the girl up onto her back, and turned to Cleo. "Let's do it," she said grimly.

"He'll let McCracken know I'm here," murmured Cleo, repeating this to herself. Panic fluttered in her chest; what if she let them down? What if she wasn't quite brave enough to help her new friends? What if she could never make it back home to – no, she mustn't think of that. Shaking her head once again, she took a deep breath and pulled open the double doors.

A/N:

Hey guys! I hope you liked this chapter. I took into account what Shia F mentioned about imagery, and while this imagery was rather depressing, I really tried to be more descriptive. Definitely let me know how you liked it.

I've been debating about the rating, since I did switch it back to K from T as I had rated it T without any reason to, but recently as I started working on future chapters, I realized that there are some darker themes and concepts, similar, I believe, to the books. So while there definitely won't be sex or violence or crude language or drugs or anything of that sort… well, this feels rather silly, to be honest, because this really isn't a big deal. But I understand that if there are younger readers out there, I certainly don't want to be giving people nightmares.

A little background on the upcoming installments to which I am referring: I've always been an avid reader of dystopian stories. Not in a twisted way, like I'm not obsessed with horrible post-apocalyptic tales, but I've always been intrigued by them. If that makes sense.

At any rate, this idea has been in my head for awhile, and I thought that I could incorporate it into this fic, since to me, this isn't just fanfiction: it's turned into a piece of writing that I am actually passionate about.

Sorry for waffling; I just wanted to explain that and see what you guys think.

As always, thanks for your support! Please review and let me know what you thought of this chapter, and if you have any POV requests for the next one, since as of now I have no idea/preference. So, Sticky? Kate? Reynie? Constance? Mackenzie? You name it!

Okay, bye!


	25. Chapter 26

**Kate**

Kate was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. This was rather unlike her, and it stood to reason that she found this quite bothersome. Not to mention that the timing of all of this was extremely unfortunate. Of course she wanted to find Mr. Benedict; of course she cared about the Society and had even warmed to Cleo, even though it was abundantly clear that the poor girl had no clue what she was doing.

Then again, it was a bit rich of any of them to be thinking the same thing, since they were equally over their heads. But they _were_ going to rescue their family - as she had come to refer to Mr. Benedict, Rhonda, Number Two, Miss Perumal, and the Washingtons - and that was just a fact, really.

Still... that was all good and nice and so on, yet she was distracted. Now, I am sure that we have all experienced the vicious cycle of being distracted, being frustrated with the fact that we are distracted, becoming further distracted by the thoughts about being distracted, and finally deciding to focus, only to discover that we cannot remember what we were doing before the cycle began. And then, lo and behold, after we wrack our brains to no avail, we decide to be responsible and start on another productive undertaking, only to be sidetracked once more, and the pattern continues.

Kate was feeling this way, the distraction being none other than Reynie Muldoon. She didn't like it one bit. It fell under the category of unfamiliar experiences, much like everything else in her current life, and this was most irritating.

Casting a furtive glance at Reynie and feeling a surge of some pesky emotion or other, she forced herself to concentrate. In fact, just to make absolute _certain_ that she wouldn't let her absurd thoughts go haywire again, she muttered to herself, "Snap out of it!"

Snapping out of it - at least for the time being - was a relatively easy task, for at this point they were standing in the most peculiar-looking interior that they had ever seen - an interior that was strangely reminiscent of the Institute. Perhaps whoever had designed the architecture of L.I.V.E. had taken part in this project as well.

"Um... is it just me, or does this place -" began Sticky, surely about to comment on the eerie resemblance, but he was cut off by a brusque voice saying,

"What do you want?"

Cleo stepped forward. "I'm Cleopatra Valentine," she said, sounding, Kate noted, more confident than she had at the gate. Eyes darting to look anxiously at the others before facing front again, she added, "I'm, er... with McCracken."

The man, who had an imposing stature and was dressed in a ridiculous uniform consisting of a black and white striped top and matching pants, cocked an eyebrow. Admirably, the girl did not quail, and without missing a beat, clarified hurriedly,

"I'm - I work for him. I'm sure he'll be very interested in what I have to tell him." The man remained unimpressed. "He's assigned me a secret mission," she finally said in exasperation, as if he was quite dense - which, for all they knew, he was.

In any case, this seemed to satisfy him, and he led them down the empty hallway, past lines of suspiciously pristine, closed, and numbered doors, then took several swift turns and stopped. "Here is his office," he said loftily. "I don't know when he might return."

Cleo swallowed. "Please let him know that it is... urgent," she said, voice almost cracking. Kate watched this, feeling a rush of sympathy for the girl. At this point, she was no safer than the other children were: once McCracken inevitably recognized her betrayal, he would be as motivated to - for lack of a better word - _terminate_ her as he already was in regards to the Society. However, if Kate was to play the role of slavishly obedient captive, she had to keep her mouth shut.

The man grunted something about high horses and spun around, marching back to his post in the strangely empty yet cavernous lobby.

This left the six of them standing dumbly before a heavy mahogany door. S.Q. shuffled his feet around in his schoolboy awkwardness.

"Should we open the door?" asked Reynie dubiously. "Is it locked?"

Sticky tugged the handle. "Stuck like glue."

"Hey, wait," said Kate, tapping a spot on the doorframe above their heads. "The paint here's different. Hold on." She extracted her pen knife from her bucket and wiggled it around the area which was indeed a slightly darker color than the surrounding paint - but so subtly that only Kate could have noticed it. After a few expert motions with the pen knife, she neatly peeled away what turned out to be a strip of some sort of rubbery material masquerading as paint.

Underneath this was a simple combination code pad set up just like a telephone's dial pad.

"I don't suppose anyone knows the password?" said S.Q. helpfully.

"Obviously not," Constance snapped. Taken aback, the others looked at her in surprise. Now that they thought of it, she had been exceptionally quiet through all of this. Reynie glanced at her, then at Kate, mouthing, _Is she okay?_

Kate raised her eyebrows in concern, _I don't know._ Reynie held her gaze for a beat too long and she looked away, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. "What's the matter, Connie-girl?" she asked hastily, kneeling down next to the girl.

"Nothing." Constance ducked her head, avoiding eye contact.

"What is it?" pressed Kate. Oh, if only all the answers lay within this stubborn, confused little girl.

"I can feel it," mumbled Constance.

"Feel what?"

"The thing - what's in his office - what McCracken is after, or developing, or - I don't know -" Becoming quite agitated, Constance buried her face in her hands, whimpering slightly. "It's here, I can feel it."

"What is it? Tell us!" urged Cleo. "Is it a weapon?"

Constance could barely shake or nod her head, even if she wanted to. Kate, to her surprise, winced, suddenly understanding what it must be like for Milligan to worry about his daughter. When someone that you care very much about is in pain, it goes without saying that you feel echoes of their suffering as well.

"It's alright," Kate said softly, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"So... what now?" asked Reynie. "Any guesses on the password?"

They all shook their heads mutely.

Kate was at a loss. The key, or at least part of the puzzle, lay with Constance, who was clearly in no position to talk. If only they could get into the office...

"Hold on a minute," she said, and almost smacked herself in the head. What in the world was wrong with her? Silently admonishing herself - if she hadn't been so distracted, this might have occurred to her much sooner - she tugged a bobby pin out of her hair and inserted into the lock. She deftly jiggled it around, head tilted, waiting to hear the telltale click.

But it didn't unlock. Frowning, she tried again. Nothing happened. She pulled it out, feeling rather embarrassed.

"It's not working," she said in confusion. "I don't know why."

"Are you sure? Try again," said Reynie, hoping fervently that they would be granted access and finally, _finally_ get one step closer to rescuing Mr. Benedict.

"Well, okay, but I don't think it's going to work." She bit her lip, concentrating hard, and thought she'd almost gotten it when the flap over the dial pad suddenly flew shut and the lock sealed, trapping the bobby pin and snatching it out of Kate's fingers.

Yelping, Kate stumbled backwards. A small red light began to flash, accompanied by a low-pitched beeping, just as footsteps began echoing down the hallway. They all whirled around – Kate plunged her hand inside her bucket – and stood fearfully as the footsteps got louder and louder. For a split second that dragged on for eternity, they waited for them, whoever they may be, to turn the corner...

Cleo paled.

"Fancy seeing you here," said Mackenzie.

A/N:

So! There's that.

I thought I'd talk about something semi-quickly, just because, but if you're uninterested feel free to click the little x at the top of the tab/page now. Or scroll down, if you're a reviewer who wants to see my response.

Someone said in a past review that I basically gave the characters' personalities a growth spurt, and I certainly agree. The reviewer who said that was not saying it in a mean or menacing way whatsoever. I just wanted to let you all know that if any of you somehow feel cheated or annoyed that I did do this, I'm sorry.

It's crazy because I started this one day when I was feeling pathetic for having no love life and re-reading the MBS books and decided to pair Kate and Reynie. It was just going to be fluff at first, but I started getting quite attached to these characters, as you may be able to tell, and started developing them.

Basically, I just wanted to say that I hope you understand why I might have done that. And how crazy and wonderful it is and how lucky I am that I can experience the writing process like this.

I try to develop the story and the characters in more of a "real" setting, making them more three-dimensional, if you know what I mean. And I like putting some conflicts in and maybe a dash of angst, just because. But I also try to keep some of the elements of the original books like the tone of voice and the fact that they're always running into password-locked doors and all the things that made the books so delightful.

At any rate, sorry my author's notes are ridiculously long, but I like to talk about my writing as much as I like writing it.

To the reviewers…

Sam S: thank you so much! It really means the world to me when people say things like that, because I know it's a pain not having a fanfic account so the fact that you go out of your way to keep checking back makes me so ridiculously happy! I love to write and I love writing for you guys!

Starburst: They are trying to figure out what's going on in the hopes that it will help them figure out what's going on with McCracken's sudden reappearance and why they have taken Mr. Benedict and Number Two.

Shia F: Thanks for you continuous feedback! I definitely take your advice into account and I'm glad that you're helping me become a better writer! I hope my imagery in this chapter was more casual and less long blocks of descriptive text. In terms of active/passive sentences, I wasn't quite sure what you meant by that. I mean, I understand what they are, but I wasn't sure how to incorporate that into imagery, because there isn't much of a subject that can act upon another, when it comes to description. If that makes sense.

As always, let me know what you thought of this chapter! I worked long and hard and intermittently on this so I fervently hope you enjoyed it. I love lengthy reviews. But I also love the people who are like, "your story is awesome! update update update!" because it still makes my day. And if you have any questions... as you can see, I respond to most reviews in my author's notes. So if you have questions, or suggestions, or requests, go for it! I'm always super open!

I'm thinking of Mackenzie POV next, but let me know if you'd rather have Constance or Mr. Benedict or any other character, really.

Thanks, guys. You rock. :)


	26. Chapter 27

**Constance**

She could hear it, feel it, and almost see it, but for whatever infuriating reason could not convey it to the others, no matter how much they asked and how much she wished she could. Kate's kindness almost made it worse, for Constance so wanted to be able to give answers and felt a distinct sense of guilt that she could not.

She sensed Mackenzie's presence from down the hallway, yet couldn't alert her friends. It was as though there was an incessant pounding in her head, blurring her vision and locking her mouth shut so that she could not utter a sound. Images of things she could barely recall appeared as quickly as they vanished.

Mackenzie was speaking, and though she heard the words, she could not make sense of them.

"...betrayal...pay for this...Father is on his way..."

Constance squeezed her eyes shut, silently begging for this surge of discomfort to subside, yet it only grew stronger. Suddenly, her vision was full of light, and the pain stopped for a split second. Before she could process this, however, she felt her head spin again and the images that had been slipping by at lightning speed gradually slowed down, as if they were a slideshow.

"...none of your business...you will pay...we're taking the boy...Reynie..."

Everything went dark. Vaguely, she heard Kate stomp her foot; she felt S.Q.'s willowy arms reach under her; but Constance Contraire was lost.

She squinted at the photographs hovering in front of her face and realized that, to her surprise, they were videos. Videos playing back memories she didn't know she had. Ten Men sneaking down a dark alleyway. Hiding in a trashcan. A hand clamped over her mouth, smothering her. Pain. Cries for help in a burning building. The heat of the flames. Frostbite. Dangling off a rusty monkey bar at an abandoned playground. Falling. The unbearable pain of a broken bone. Skinning her knees every summer, time and time again. The Institute. The Whisperer. And then...

It was wet that day. Moist. Humid. A heavy smog hung over everything, water droplets suspended in mid air. She was tired but fought hard to keep her eyes open. Don't succumb to sleep until you've figured out what's going on, what's happening to you. Vehemently, she held on. Her fingernails dug into her palms, miniscule but sharp, as she fiercely struggled against something she could not perceive.

There were hands around her now. Squeezing her middle. She squirmed against their grip. The pressure was relinquished and she found herself instead held close to something warm, and soft. This was a good thing, because the noise hurt her ears. She squinted upwards but everything was blurry. Was she underwater?

The person holding her spoke sharply. There was a back-and-forth argument, and shouts. The person began sprinting, cradling her in the nook of their arm, fighting against some unnamable force. From the thin muscles straining to hold her up, she gathered that this person was much younger than she had assumed. She thought she might fall, but never did.

They turned onto a dirt path. She knew this by the smell. It was thick and gamy, soil saturated with water. The person carrying her was slowed by the sticky mud. Despite this, they kept going, steadily making their way to… where? She lifted her head up, but it was like heaving a boulder off the ground by a pinky finger. Exhausting.

A swishing sound started up. The source was from around them. She could barely discern swaying green tips over the edge of her blanket. She gazed at them for a moment, wondering who they were. They had to be alive. The colors were so radiant, so bright.

She was so, so tired. Just as she was about to doze off, the person stopped abruptly. Someone else was speaking. Incoherent phrases. Razor-edged tones. She felt herself shifted into the crook of an elbow as the other arm raised up, gesticulating. She started to cry.

It was raining now. Whoever was quarrelling with her ostensible caregiver left. They held her to their chest now, more gently. A faint scent of lilies, a lock of auburn hair. She widened her eyes and a face came into focus. _Mama?_

But then something went through their body. A shudder that felt like an earthquake. They tossed their head back, making a large, gulping sound, and she saw, for an instant, the gray sky above. The diamonds waiting to fall. The dingy, stale-looking clouds. While she was perceiving this, something wet fell onto her cheek. Just one. Just once.

Her hand went up to it automatically. A teardrop. She rubbed it into her skin.

The person was leaning over her again. She felt comforting lips on her forehead, and then in a rush realized something terrible was about to happen.

They let go of her.

Alarmed, she started crying, beating against air with her tiny fists. Words she couldn't understand. Hard dirt under her back. A frog jumped onto her chest and she shrieked, beating it off. The green moving things were being tossed by the wind. One floated over to her and it was a motionless strip of fiber-like material.

In one superhuman move, she lifted her head up, straining every muscle in her neck. But the person just walked away. Just left her. Just like that.

Was she bad? She was bad. She was engulfed and surrounded by thick, thorny vines, genus unknown.

Thunder sounded. Lightning struck somewhere far away. Nobody was holding her. She wanted to be held. She needed to be loved.

But she wasn't loved or held.

Panic built up in her chest, panic that turned into a monstrous scream. And yet the person kept walking, turned into a small dot, and, every ounce of strength spent, her heavy head dropped back to the ground.

She lay there in the seeping dirt, eyes squeezed shut, and cried and cried but mama never came.

And so she did what any person would naturally do: she forgot about it. Tucked it into the back of her brain, into that small compartment that erases the memory of fear and loss, it had not bothered her... until today.

"Here he comes." "Quick!" "I have Constance." "Let go of her." "No!"

Constance blinked. Her head was clear, clearer than it had ever been since this whole McCracken business began. A slight ache was building up in her entire body, as if she'd just been dropped from a building a million stories high. But it was... gone. For now, at least.

"Constance!" Kate came to her side, patting her down roughly and shaking her back and forth. "You're okay?"

Constance nodded. "I think I am."

Kate gave a pinched smile that only meant one thing. Constance gathered that something bad, _really _bad, had transpired while she was in that state, or whatever one might call what she had just experienced. She looked up at Kate again, who was saying urgently, "Mackenzie's gone to get McCracken. We have to get out of here."

"She's going to take Reynie," Sticky added, perspiring and clenching a fist at his side. "She said she'd take Reynie," he repeated, and his voice unexpectedly held a strong tinge of anger.

"That's not going to happen," Kate said, but her voice trembled at the thought of losing him. Surprised, Constance, connected by Kate's hand on her shoulder, discerned a flickering image of the two of them, his arm around her shoulder, her head pressed against his chest, back at Mr. Benedict's house. It wasn't a memory; it was a wish.

"You guys go," said Cleo softly. She was twisting her hands, face pale and drawn.

Kate's eyes flew wide open. "What? No way! You're coming with us."

Cleo shook her head. "No, I have to stay. I got us into this mess."

"Now isn't the time to take one for the team," said Kate gruffly.

"I can't," quavered Cleo.

Kate's face darkened into an obstinate scowl, mimicking Constance's trademark expression. "Well, you are. Come on." From this, Constance deduced that Kate was now under the impression that Cleo was simply chickening out, and she wouldn't stand for _that. _Choosing wisely not to comment on this, Constance asked instead,

"Where exactly are we going?"

Now, this was a good question. Their hearts were all racing, adrenaline pumping... and they were trapped.

To be honest, it is a bit difficult to explain how they were feeling, but the best comparison that one can make is to that superhuman moment before you score a goal in a soccer, a goal that may make or break your chance at a trophy or some other highly valuable reward - the moment when you are standing in the middle of one of those fake grass fields and the people on the bleachers are cheering but you don't hear them because this is your one and only goal.

Yes, that's exactly what it was like. Except that, you know, their goal was mere survival.

"We don't know," said S.Q., licking his lips anxiously.

Kate shook her head gravely and repeated, "We have to get out of here. We don't have enough time –"

A stampede of footsteps charged down the hallway. "There they are!" shouted Mackenzie, pointing an accusatory and jubilant finger at the children. She was, of course, followed by a whole host of Ten Men.

Constance felt the pain slide back into her head as they got closer and, groaning, brought her hands up to her temples. This time, it came at a much more constant rate, with no relief between waves. She made eye contact with McCracken, whose head angled downwards to watch as she doubled up, whimpering. A smile spread across his face. "Oh, ducky," he murmured, clucking at her. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

"Run!" shouted Kate, turning and hurtling down a hallway. At the wave of a Ten Man's hand, a metal panel slid from the ceiling and cut her off.

"Not so fast," said McCracken coolly.

"What do you want?" asked Cleo.

Livid, his face suddenly contorted into a terrible, terrible expression Constance hoped never to see again. Strangely, though, as he focused his attention on the other girl, Constance's own pain lessened considerably. She shook her head. It was clear again.

Cleo was backed up against the door to his office as McCracken advanced on her. "You," he said in a low, angry voice. "You! You betrayed us! Do you know how I manage traitors? You –"

Mackenzie put a soothing hand on his arm. "Later, Father," she reminded him. He looked at his daughter, something softening in his gaze, and nodded.

Then he suddenly straightened, as if pulled tautly up by a string. His spine was rigid. "I'll deal with you later," he said. "I have another bone to pick with the rest of them."

Cleo, who had been visibly trembling, relaxed at these words, and she shuffled over to stand by Sticky and S.Q. Instinctively, Sticky moved closer to her, poised to do whatever was necessary to keep her safe.

"I believe," McCracken said, "that you owe us one of these handsome young men." The Ten Men behind him started whispering loudly to each other, excitement growing on their faces. "Let's see… who was it?" The twitch at the corner of his mouth indicated that he knew exactly who it was, and was choosing purely to torment them into stating the name of the person they were about to relinquish.

"You're not taking him," Kate said, standing in front of Reynie. She transformed into a lioness, eyes a piercing, crystalline azure, and her posture was just as rigid as McCracken, who looked on in amusement – but, as she continued to hold his gaze, something in his façade faltered. It was not discernable on the surface, but Constance felt it, and a tiny fragment of hope grew in the pit of her stomach.

McCracken, brushing off whatever misgiving he had, gave a mock-apologetic look. "Oh dear, I'm afraid that we've made these plans ages ago, and whether you like it or not, my schedule is anything but flexible."

Kate said firmly, "You can't."

"We can," said Mackenzie, stepping forward. The look on her face was filthy and contemptible.

"No."

"Yes."

Kate stood her ground fiercely, and said adamantly, "Never." Constance felt a warmth spread into her heart as she felt the rush of inexplicable, ineffable, undisputable certainty that Kate emanated.

And then, startled, they all – Ten Men, Mackenzie, and McCracken included – watched as Kate slid her hand into Reynie's, interlacing their fingers: an act that, in itself, was nothing remarkable, yet the expression that filled both of their eyes was one that none of them could forget. Perhaps it wasn't love, but it was as close as it could be. Reynie turned to Kate as if she was the only thing that existed, and Kate tugged their intertwined hands up to her chest, right above her heart. For a moment, everything stood still.

But then Constance reluctantly – and thankfully – pointed out, in an undertone, "This is all romantic and great and such, but we're kind of in an inconveniently life-or-death situation, so I recommend that –"

She could not finish, for the pain began to slide back into her head, and she felt everything sway. It started throbbing; her chest grew unbearably heavy, and suddenly a fever washed over her, and the excruciating stab of a cut and of a bone splintering beneath one's skin, and being thrown onto a cement floor…

One Ten Man stepped up, cackling. The children watched in horror as Constance fell to the ground, writhing.

"What did you do to her?" shouted S.Q., surprisingly passionate. "Stop it! She doesn't like it!" He seized the arm of the man, who casually tossed the gawky teenager against the wall. Furious, he bounced back, though he opted not to confront any of them, considering the circumstances.

Kate's other hand was digging around in her bucket, but before any of them could act, the Ten Man who was now second-in-command reached into his briefcase.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," said he, and grinned an emotionless grin. "I do believe, however, that I have something you've all been, ah, pursuing – foolishly, I might add. Very foolish, yet somehow admirable." He paused to let his words sink in. Constance, on the floor, uttered a note of pain. "It is I – we – who owns the device that is causing this. We have developed it, in the room you all idiotically attempted to break into, for the past few years. Only now has our leader, McCracken, been released; only now can we test it out. And we couldn't have chosen a better subject." He looked down fondly at Constance, who had curled into a fetal position. "Do you wish to see the mechanism that can cause this amount of pain? Do you want to know the future of this world, the newest form of punishment? Because it's right here, within your grasp. It's sitting in the palm of my hand _right_…. _this… instant_."

Kate raised her chin, defiant, but her hand trembled. Reynie gripped it, a warm, comforting act that flooded her with renewed strength. "We're not scared," she said stoically. Reynie gave her an encouraging nod. Standing even taller, she said loudly, "Show it to us."

"Where's the magic word?" asked the Ten Man in a sing-songy, delighted tone. "Oh my, this is just delightful!"

Kate gritted her teeth, glaring at him with the utmost loathing. "_Please_," she spat, making it sound like an imprecation of the worst caliber.

"Only because you asked."

Slowly, he began to slip his hand out of that dreaded briefcase. He tilted his head, as if savoring the children's pale, determined faces, anticipating the moment of display, and then he dropped his briefcase, clutching the object in his hand and curling his fingers around it protectively.

"Do come have a nice look," he said, smiling and unfolding his fingers one by one.

It rested in the palm of his hand. Despite their consternation, they all leaned forward to see what it was, what could possibly be the cause of Constance's pain. And there it was.

It was a button. Just that. A button.

**Author's note**

So. There you go. That chapter was a great deal longer than I intended it to be, and I considered splitting it up, but couldn't find a good place to cut it off and even if I could, I don't think I would want to because this was such a vital chapter in this story.

I hope that I paid homage to Trenton Lee Stewart's style of writing in this one, but I know that I did stray pretty far from the voice I was using before, such as when I went into detail of Constance's flashback/flashbacks. And before anybody attacks me for this, yes, I did use a very similar piece of writing in another one of my fics, On My Own (a Finchel – Glee – fic that is now completed). I initially wrote it about my own adoption, and felt that it could be incorporated into this chapter. I always modify it, though, to fit into the context.

This encompasses some of the darker themes that I was talking about before. If any of you have a problem with it (I don't think it was sufficiently creepy to warrant a T rating, but if you don't want to keep reading it's completely fine), let me know.

I have already started the next chapter and will post it as soon as possible. I'm afraid, however, that I can't work on consistency in updates or chapter length as much as I should, because with school and a busy schedule I don't want to keep people waiting too long, so please be patient with my frequency of updating.

Lastly, thank you for all of your support and reviews. There are a few faithful readers who review on a regular basis and it means the world to me. And even if you keep this open on your phone to check back, that literally (okay, figuratively) warms my heart. Yup. I love all of you guys and can't express my gratitude that you all exist because I love writing and it's been such a crazy wonderful experience to write for other people. But don't worry, this is nowhere near the end of the fic.

So thank you, thank you, thank you. Review if you wish. :)

Oh, and I did add a bit more Kaynie in the end. See, in the action scenes, it's not like there can be romantic interludes, but I promise that more is coming, and once all is resolved, there will be a totally reasonable amount of Kaynie fluff. I'm as excited as you are because I will go down with this ship.


	27. Chapter 28

**Mr. Benedict**

He woke up inside some sort of cell. Every limb aching, he pulled himself into a sitting position, blinking several time to adjust to the darkness engulfing him - but he barely had time to do so when the metal door closing him off from whatever lay ahead swung open. A masked Ten Man seized his arm roughly. "Get up," he growled.

"I can walk by myself," said Mr. Benedict indignantly, determined to put on a brave face no matter what. It was a habit he had grown into, for he was teaching the children he loved so much how to have faith no matter the circumstances, and, well, who was he if he couldn't stay strong too? He would be no better than McCracken's cowardly minions.

"Hurry," the Ten Man snapped, his grip tightening.

"Where are you - what are you - please," said Mr. Benedict, struggling against him. Unfortunately, he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't just a little exhausted and, though he was exceptionally dexterous and brilliant as always, he was undeniably getting on in years.

"McCracken's got them," the Ten Man said with some satisfaction.

"Who?"

"The children."

"They do?" Mr. Benedict's brow wrinkled in concern. "Are they - "

Before either of them could say anything further, McCracken swooped down, cackling. "Now, isn't this a charming turn of events?" he sneered.

"Please - are they alright?"

"For now, yes. Except that obnoxious little one." He waved a hand dismissively, as if vaguely disgusted by a particularly persistent fruit fly.

Mr. Benedict blanched and murmured, "Constance."

"Oh yes,_ that's_ her name. Boy, it would have driven me crazy all night," McCracken said, eyes narrowing in amusement. "You know, I'm terrible at remembering names. Fortunately, however, it would look as though those pesky children will be no more, and therefore no more names to try to recall."

Mr. Benedict was watching the man, his usually calm and even-tempered expression wiped away. His hands trembled, and suddenly, his face twisted in pain. Freeing himself from the Ten Man, he lunged forward and shook McCracken by the shoulders, jaw clenched as an uncharacteristic rage engulfed him, and he said, teeth gritted, "What have you done to her? To them?"

The Ten Man was on him in an instant, grabbing him around the waist and hefting him easily off of McCracken, who appeared to be delighted. "Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Take him away," he ordered. "If you don't mind, I have some infinitely more important business to attend to."

The Ten Man nodded curtly and dragged Mr. Benedict towards another passageway. "Go," he said, shoving the man ahead. McCracken winked at him condescendingly, and then they were through the passageway and were standing on a tall, rickety wooden platform that seemed most unfitting based on the architecture of McCracken's headquarters. To make things even more peculiar, they were standing above the shore of - could it be? - an ocean. Salt spray flicked against Mr. Benedict's face.

He turned to the Ten Man, who was reaching up to slip out of the mask. "Excellent job, Milligan," he said pleasantly.

**Author's note**

So, that was extremely short. And I know that I should be posting chapters more consistently, as in not two at once, so you'll have to be dissatisfied for now, but I promise another one is coming up sometime this week, so stay tuned. You guys were requesting a Mr. Benedict POV, and although I have a general idea for the next chapter I am still open to requests and suggestions. It's almost certainly going to be Constance POV.

As usual, review! Thank you so much for your support!


	28. Chapter 29

**Kate**

Kate stared at the button for a full second, somewhat flummoxed.

"Would you like to see what it does?" asked the Ten Man, giggling. "Shut your eyes, ducky. It may not be pretty."

"Who _are_ you?" asked Sticky.

"Oh? We haven't been acquainted yet, I see. Not by name, at least." The Ten Man extended a white-gloved hand with fingers that strongly resembled the whiskers on those terrifying star-nosed moles. "Damon, McCracken's second-in-command." Pausing to let it sink in, he tilted his head and leered at the children for an uncomfortable ten seconds - long enough to make them all shuffle their feet, feeling very self-conscious indeed. "Now, if you'd just cooperate with us, we have a small errand to run and I'm afraid there's no time for misbehavior. Come along." He stowed the button away in his breast pocket and gestured towards the door.

"No," said Kate hotly. "You're _sick._"

"Really?" He lifted an eyebrow coolly. "That's the best you can do, is it?" He turned to the Ten Men behind him. "Did you hear that, boys? I'm _sick._"

Kate's fingernails dug into her palm as she willed herself not to explode, because exploding generally solved nothing, and what they needed at this particular moment was some sort of escape. An escape that was escaping her, the irony of which she couldn't help but appreciate. The harder she racked her brains, the more impossible it became to think of any plausible solution.

Cleo was trembling next to her. Kate shot her a look. What in the world could be running through her mind? Cleo was an odd one, in her opinion. There was a story behind her - especially after Constance had been unable to read the girl. _In fact, don't quite trust you, _thought Kate, studying Cleo carefully and wondering what her next move might be.

This was made apparent when, after a moment of visible indecision, she said clearly, "Damon." He wiggled an eyebrow at her. Unfazed, she continued, "Take me."

Reynie turned to her, an expression of respect on his face. "Cleo," he said gently, a warning. "You don't have to."

"I do. I got you into this mess... please, just let them take me."

Reynie shook his head. "We can't lose you now. You're our fearless leader!"

"Thanks," she said, relaxing slightly. He smiled encouragingly at her. "But I have to do this. There aren't any other options, and we all know that I'm most dispensable in this group. I'll only get you into more trouble. You know that." She faced Damon, who looked utterly delighted by this turn of events, and took a deep breath. "Take me."

Kate wanted to punch the girl in the face. Who did she think she was, that miserable excuse for an honorary Society member - as if! She'd sided with the wrong people and if she thought she could amend things by heroically sacrificing herself, she was an idiot, the most absurdly _stupid_...

Kate stopped herself, alarmed. Since when had such unkind thoughts crept into her head? Surely she wasn't jealous! Was she?

No, that would be outright ridiculous. Kate had always prided herself on her ability to remain more accepting and patient than the average person - a quality she most admired in Milligan, and sought to encompass every day - and this itchy, irritated feeling matched with her inability to think clearly when Reynie was close by simply didn't add up.

Oh, how frustrating it was for poor Kate! With all this inner turmoil and angst plunging her into a most disagreeable state, she still felt herself magnetically drawn to Reynie, whose head was ducked but whose mere profile - mahogany eyes; straight nose; a flop of dark brown hair flicked over his eyebrow - sent a warm shiver down her spine.

_Not now, please not now_, Kate begged silently, forcing herself to look away. He looked over at her and gave a small smile, making butterflies explode in her stomach. Not knowing what to do, she waved feebly, managing to trip over air in the process. Determinedly focusing back on the problems at hand - and there were quite a few - she refocused, planning to sort out these foolish feelings later.

"That's an excellent start," Damon was saying, rubbing his hands together and beaming at a trembling Cleo. He snapped his fingers. In an instant, she had drowned in a sea of Ten Men. Sticky's shout caught in his throat helplessly and his face drained.

"She'll come back," whispered Kate.

He looked bleakly at her. "Yeah," he said, though his eyes were blank.

Apparently oblivious to all of this, S.Q. was leaning protectively over Constance, who seemed to be coming to.

"Is she okay?" asked Sticky, moving away from Kate and, in a surprising act of maturity, accepted momentarily that Cleo was gone and he couldn't do anything about it without jeopardizing the rest of them.

"I think so," S.Q. replied, running an uncharacteristically steady hand across Constance's brow. "She feels feverish."

"Well, she has to be okay," said Sticky, swiftly moving to the little girl's side.

"Oh, she will be," said another Ten Man. The children's heads snapped up in unison at the sound of his simultaneously grating and high-pitched voice. "For now, at least. But _we_ hold the power. It is _our_ button that can cause this pain, _our_ button that can ruin everything for you."

"Let us go," said Kate firmly.

Damon chuckled. "I'd be careful, sweetheart. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I believe there's something you owe us."

"We don't owe you anything," Reynie said loudly. "You took away our family time and time again, you tried to break us apart, you tried to hurt us and inflict damage beyond repair - and all that we're asking of you is to let us go. Just... please let us go."

"Why, this is fascinating!" said Damon, stroking his chin. "Is Reynie Muldoon... scared?"

"No," said Reynie angrily.

"It looks like the infamous 'Society' has given up," continued the Ten Man, ignoring, the multiple, vehemently loathsome glares aimed at him.

"Stop it!" Reynie interrupted. "You know what? Okay, sure, we're giving up, I'm being a coward, _whatever_ - just let my friends go, and know that this isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Kate looked at him. He was normally so calm and rational, so even, and seeing him this fired up couldn't help but spark a little bit of pride in her chest. Regardless of how she felt about him, there was always going to be fondness of whoever he became and a pleasure when she was able to contribute to it.

"There are people I care about here, you know. People I truly care about." Reynie's voice quieted a little; his eyes flickered towards Kate. "People who, if I lost them, I would almost understand why you men become the empty shells that you are. But even if I lost them to you, I would spend the rest of my life looking for them, and loving them wherever they were, and I wouldn't give up." He sucked in his breath, abruptly realizing that the Ten Men were probably going to kill him - and where had that whole speech come from, anyway?

All Damon did in response, however, was to appear, if possible, even more gleeful. "Which is all very noble of you, dearie," he said, beaming "But I'm afraid 'letting you go' just isn't on the table."

"Fine," said Kate, crossing her arms. "What is?"

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere." Damon turned to the other Ten Men in satisfaction. "Gentlemen?"

They walked a little ways down the hallway, alternately murmuring and cackling in relish, leaving the children alone for a moment.

"We have to get out of here," Kate said, feeling fear creep across her skin and brushing it off impatiently. Fear wasn't going to help matters. What would? Well, there was the million dollar question.

Sticky looked up at her bleakly from where he and S.Q. knelt by Constance. "Kate, we can't. There's no escape. We haven't a clue where they've taken Mr. Benedict, or Milligan, or Rhonda, or anybody."

"There's got to be one."

S.Q. looked unusually glum. "I say we do what they ask. It will give us our best chance to survive."

"No!" Kate stomped her foot, infuriated. "Do you honestly think that if we go with them, they'll let us survive? You ought to know better than anyone else that the Ten Men - and McCracken - have a long list of priorities, and our survival isn't one of them! If we go with them, we're goners! They'll take us, they'll take our families..." She stopped, realizing that her voice was echoing against the walls at an alarming volume. "Look, we can't give up now," she said, in something close to an undertone. Silence.

Sticky glanced at Reynie and asked, "Where did you get that speech, anyway?"

"I don't know," Reynie responded, looking bemused. "I guess-"

Outraged at the fact that they were calmly having an analytical discussion, as if they were about to take a seat and begin assessing statistics or business or what have you, and not nearly as fired up as she, Kate yelled in frustration, "Are you all mental? Get up!"

"Hey, hey," said Reynie, coming to her side. "It's going to be fine, okay?"

Why were tears springing to the backs of her eyes? How could the others be so calm, so resigned to their fates? And Milligan... what if he... she couldn't even bear the thought. Kate brushed away her tears impatiently. "Stupid," she muttered.

"Oh, Kate, we didn't mean - " started S.Q.

Reynie shook his head imperceptibly at them, an act that Kate caught but did not acknowledge, and tentatively slid an arm around her shoulder. She stiffened - what was he _doing?_ - but something told her to relax. Looking down, she saw that Constance was awake, and their eyes locked. Some unnamed thing passed between them, and Constance blinked slowly and Kate knew what she wanted to do.

In a most un-Kate-like gesture, she leaned into Reynie's one-armed hug, ear pressed against the warmth of his chest, where she could hear his heart rate calm under her presence. "It's going to be fine," he said, his voice resonating throughout her body, chin notched over her head in a perfect fit.

It is safe to say that at this point, Kate was quite exhausted, and worn out, and fed up with fighting her own feelings all the time, all for a dumb guy. As much as she wanted to pull away from the said dumb guy and act like it never happened and she didn't feel the way she knew she did, an even larger part of her advised her - begged her - to stay just where she was, just for a moment. And so she did.

She felt Reynie's other arm close around her, drawing her closer into an actual hug, and a split second of panic sparked in her chest. But then Constance was standing and tugging at the hem of her shirt and the resistance was gone, replaced by the most unfamiliar and wonderful feeling that she was right where she belonged. Sticky and S.Q. smiled at each other as Constance joined them to the side. In an older brotherly manner, S.Q. leaned down and swept the small girl up onto his hip, as if he had done so many times before. She scowled, squirming indignantly, and then realized that this was actually quite comfortable and she was actually quite tired. A strange peace flooded over the group for one long moment.

Reynie finally pulled away from Kate, brushing a hand lightly over the curve of her cheek and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, then intertwined their fingers in the most natural, easy gesture in the world.

They waited, just like that, their thoughts full of Mr. Benedict and Rhonda and Number Two and all the other people who they loved, when the Ten Men returned.

Let's take a moment to acknowledge that this was nothing short of a miracle, and also a bit odd. For goodness' sake, they were facing imminent doom, and most people would be running about like chickens with their heads cut off instead of calmly realizing that they liked each other a great deal and oh, let's just hold hands and have romantic interludes while the bad guys plan out our death.

Back to the miraculous aspect of this situation, however, the problem here was that as strange as this may sound, the timing was remarkably inconvenient. Or so it seemed. The Ten Men were most definitely going to be brutal if they saw Kate and Reynie together - _together _together - and this bizarre state of tranquility could quite possibly be misleading, as there was no telling what horrors McCracken might put them through next, and they couldn't afford to forget about that.

Then again, Constance had come to. S.Q., for whatever reason, was holding her, and she wasn't smacking him in the face. Kate and Reynie were finally... well, they were something. And Sticky had let go of Cleo, at least for the moment, and felt like a part of the Society now more than ever.

The whole group was shrouded, for now, in love. And wasn't this what Mr. Benedict wanted all along? Wasn't this what the truest form of freedom was? Their love for each other was maybe, possibly, just enough to get them out of this mess.

It could work.

The Ten Men returned, walking slowly as if they cherished every step they took closer to the people they so dearly wished to destroy.

"What are you doing?" asked Sticky.

"Put her down," Damon snapped at S.Q.

"Pardon?"

"The girl. Put her down."

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" S.Q. looked innocently bewildered - an almost convincing act if Constance didn't feel his arms grip her tighter.

"Forget it," said Damon, disdainfully deciding that it wasn't worth the trouble. The young man seemed rather daft, after all. He turned to the others, glancing at Kate and Reynie's hands and raising an eyebrow. Oh, what a shame that _that_ wouldn't last long.

"What are you doing to us?" asked Reynie, whose voice was noticeably steadier. "What can we do for you?"

"That, my dear, would take a long, long while to explain, and unfortunately we're a bit pressed for time."

"Fine. Just tell us where - what's going to happen," said Kate, whose voice was no longer shrill with fear but rather imbibed with the hidden threat of what might ensue if she felt compelled to unleash her inner strength on the men.

"Change of plan, boys," said Damon, who was eyeing Kate in intense dislike. His gaze flickered between her and Reynie, and he murmured something to the Ten Man behind him. The message was passed through the throng in an eruption of whispers, and soon they were all wearing identically zealous leers.

"What is it?" asked Kate a tad fearfully. "What are you doing to us?"

Damon reached a hand inside his pocket and withdrew that strange button again. "This," he said, pressing it down as hard as he could.

In what felt like slow motion, they all watched as Kate let out a terrible shriek of agony, fingernails ripping across Reynie's palm as she was wrenched out of his grasp by some invisible force, and collapsed on the floor.

**Author's note**

First off, I legitimately owe all of you apologies. I really can't make excuses, because "I'm busy" sounds wishy-washy pretty quickly, and I have had opportunities in which I could've worked more and updated faster. But this chapter has been in the works for awhile and what with schoolwork and my music stuff, I've had to work on it in installments. So it may be choppy, it may be inconsistent - I know the length is extremely unusual - and you may not like it at all. But it's what I wrote, what I had in mind, and my own writing, and I want to share it with you all.

I think it speaks for itself, really. I had a lot of requests for more Kaynie action - I hope that was satisfactory, at least for now. If there are gaps in the flow of the chapter, then it's either, like I said, that I was writing and editing at different times, or that I have a tendency to assume everybody else is inside my brain and therefore makes sense of/visualizes everything I do. Of course, the best part about reading is making the scenes your own.

Oh dear, I'm waffling. That's a fun word. Anyway, it's late, and I'm sleep deprived, so I'm afraid I'll just have to post this now. Yikers. I'm a little nervous, since this was a big chapter to write, for me at least... but don't hold back. As usual, tell me what you think, any requests, where you want this to go, etc. Thank you thank you thank you for all your support. You guys rock!


	29. Chapter 30

**Cleo**

Cleo was two years old when her father died, or disappeared, or was abducted, or killed, or any of the thousand other things the police briefly considered as possibilities. Either way, he was gone forever. She was told that she was the spitting image of him; he, too, had auburn hair and warm brown-hazel eyes. But she didn't remember anything about him, past photographs and grainy home videos.

To be honest, sometimes she felt guilty about the fact that she felt so impartial to his passing. She pretended not to notice that every night her mother, exhausted from the day, cried quietly over a mug of lukewarm tea, whispering her husband's name into the cup as if it was a wishing well that might bring him back - but deep down, it broke her heart.

Melissa "Lissa" Valentine was the type of woman whose gentleness was immediately apparent, and made it very difficult for even the most bitter of people to be anything less than pleasant. She'd been shy growing up, and not very well off; the eldest of seven children, she sewed most of her clothes and had to drop out of high school in order to make way financially for the rest of her siblings. When an ad ran in the paper seeking aspiring writers, she sent in a short story she wrote in ninth grade - a short story that, while the teacher at the time gave it a scant B minus, earned Lissa her first well-paying job.

She met her husband-to-be on a Monday in late November. He was the newest hire in the editing department, and had little experience, yet swept across the office as if he had all the confidence in the world. Not to mention he was quite attractive, and it didn't take long for all the women to pursue him. Strangely enough, he appeared impervious to their many advances, and exactly a month later he approached Lissa, with whom he'd barely exchanged words beyond a polite "good morning," and asked her to a movie.

He was glamorous, worldly, and knowledgeable. Lissa was modest, innocent, and guileless. He had a tough exterior, but truly cared for his girlfriend, and in returnshe slowly opened up to him. Exactly two years after they met, he proposed, and exactly a year after that they were married.

Cleo was born on Monday, February 6, and they lived a happy life for two years. A week after her second birthday, he vanished, seemingly into thin air. Why did all of these things spontaneously occur to Cleo as she was frog-marched to her inevitable doom? That, dear reader, is an excellent question.

"What's going on?" she asked, not expecting a reply. The Ten Men that had seized her earlier were half dragging, half carrying her down a darkened hallway.

"We're locking you up until McCracken decides what to do," one of them growled.

"Wh-where am I?"

"Nowhere important. Now be quiet," snapped another one, shoving her into a chair and tying her wrists and ankles together.

"You're just... _leaving _me?" asked Cleo in disbelief, some of her courage returning in the form of indignation, and then rage. "This is so unfair! I didn't do anything, I don't deserve this! I was never bound by oath to McCracken, I never promised not to betray him, and those kids out there - you can't take them! They didn't do anything either! You're the bad guys and you know it!"

"Feisty," one of them commented coolly. A ripple of snickers erupted around her.

Blood was pounding in Cleo's head. Throughout all of this, she knew she'd been wishy-washy. She knew that Kate disliked her, and Reynie was only kind to her because, well, that's who he was, and that she'd hurt Sticky, and that Constance had attempted to read her mind and failed for a reason honestly unknown to herself. She knew that despite this, she pretended not to notice these things, a talent she realized was mostly a curse at this point. She knew that for whatever reason, something was taking over her brain - but nothing sinister. No, this was self-inflicted. Guilt? Shame? Fear? Denial? Maybe all four.

She could not explain why she did what she did next. She wasn't a fighter. She never started conflict; on the contrary, it made her exceedingly uncomfortable and she tended to run away from raised voices and palpably tense situations. She wasn't physically strong. All she knew was that the moment she ripped out of the rope holding her captive and charged at the horde of startled Ten Men, punching and kicking and scratching, the only thing that popped into her mind was her father.

She was there when he disappeared. Lissa was still at work, finishing up a draft that had been due Friday. She'd had the entire weekend to work on it, but seemed antsy and nervous and opted to sit at home with her husband and daughter watching old black and white films.

Cleo had just finished eating dinner, and her father was cutting her a slice of leftover birthday cake. Nobody had shown up to celebrate with them, so the big frosted cake they bought went to waste. It had been his idea for the family to eat the rest of it, because it had been so expensive. And all of this was for Cleo, with springy curls and a bubbly laugh that made everyone smile. Cleo, who probably wouldn't even remember how much he loved her, and the way he bounced her up and down on his lap that night until the doorbell rang.

They were well-dressed men, and he invited them into their home, thinking that this could be something about Lissa's work. Cleo was sitting on the floor, rolling a ball back and forth. Today was Monday, and the unit at preschool this week was shapes. She had a triangle (the kind you play like a musical instrument) and square blocks at her feet.

And then all of a sudden, she was scooped up in a stranger's rough arms, and her father was yelling, and a soft white handkerchief floated in her vision for a split second before everything went black. When she woke up, she couldn't remember a thing. Until now.

Another group of Ten Men burst through the door, clutching their heads and noses and various parts of their bodies that had visibly been injured.

"Move aside," said somebody. "Do stop complaining about your nose, Johnson. We all know it's bleeding and we couldn't care less."

As the figure moved towards her in the shadows, Cleo began trembling again. She never wanted this, any of this. He was going to kill her, wasn't he?

"Come here," he said, taking her chin into his hand. She gulped, squeezing her eyes shut. "Ah, I see. It's the girl."

"It's the one, the one that betrayed McCracken," explained a Ten Man.

"Yes, I can see that. I'm not daft," snapped the man. "What's your name, sweetpea?" His grip was viselike, and he shook her head side to side.

"C-Cleo," she stammered. He reeked of cologne.

"Cleo," he said mockingly, then something caught in his throat and he inhaled sharply. "Wait."

"Damon," said a Ten Man - so that was who it was; she had guessed as much - "we can't afford mercy right now. McCracken's coming any minute, and if you - "

"Shut up," said Damon, but in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

Cleo looked up, heart racing, at his silhouette. Something caught in her throat, too.

"Daddy?" she whispered.

**Author's note**

I am honestly quite anxious about putting this up, because I know this seems to be a Kate/Milligan repeat, which is an idea I wrestled with, but I feel like this is a different situation and gives Kate and Cleo something in common - so I know some of you may not like where I went in this chapter. Regardless, I do hope you liked this! I've been getting requests for Cleo, and people wanting to know more of her backstory, so here it is!

Thanks for being patient with my updates! Review and let me know what you thought and what you want to see next!


	30. Chapter 31

**Damon**

Damon stumbled backwards, some invisible force thrust upon him. He was acutely aware of a thudding in his chest, a peculiar sensation rushing through his veins, and a lurch in his throat. Feeling as if he was choking, he backed up, grasping at thin air for a support that wasn't there.

That girl, that foolish teenage girl, was doing something to him. She possessed a weapon far superior to the one he and McCracken had developed, the weapon that was supposed to be so formidable that its strength protected its bearer. Wielding this device had indeed granted him insurmountable power and near invincibility; what sorcery could this Cleo character possess to be able to override such defenses so effortlessly?

And yet she sat there, eyes wide open, almost as fearful as he. A moment of uncertainty gave him pause: perhaps she did not know what she was doing.

But then a small, timid smile tugged the corner of her mouth, and he felt the wind knocked out of him again, and he knew, he _knew_ that this girl was up to no good. Why else would she smirk at him like that, why else would she be looking at him as he felt his insides being crushed and suffocated?

Spinning around wildly, he was suddenly aware that the Ten Men were gaping at him, entirely unaffected by the girl's instrument of torture.

"Wh-what?" he stammered, drawing a shaky breath. "Don't you... feel it?"

"Daddy," whispered Cleo.

"No!" he said loudly, retreating. "I'm not - what are you - I demand that you stop this immediately! Stop whatever you're doing, stop it, go away, we'll let you go -"

One of the men made a note of protest. "We're supposed to keep her, sir."

He must have looked crazed, for they all fell silent under his icy glare.

"Daddy," said Cleo again. Damon summoned all of his strength, though he felt as if he was unraveling, and ignored her. "Damon," she said, and he had to respond, had to look into those eyes. He had the disconcerting, frightening feeling that he had seen them before, and seen and felt and known the emotion behind them, and somehow this Cleo... somehow she was bringing it all back to him.

"What do you want?" he asked huskily.

Her lower lip trembled. "I want my dad back."

"What are you talking about?" he asked as harshly as he could, then flinched, feeling inordinately guilty for speaking to her like that. _She's the bad guy_, he had to remind himself. _She's not innocent._

"You're my dad, I know you are. You're Eric Valentine. You're married to Lissa Valentine, and McCracken took you away from us."

"On a Monday," he said despite himself.

She nodded, lips pressed together, tears glistening in her eyes. "Don't you remember?" she asked gently, as if he was a shaken, frightened puppy.

No. It was supposed to be the other way around. _She_ should be trembling, not him. He should have destroyed her by now. He should have pressed that godforsaken button, watched her writhe in pain...

He felt as if he was going to throw up. "I - don't - know," he gasped.

"Monday," she said. "You met Mom on a Monday. You got married on a Monday. I was born on a Monday. You left on a Monday."

He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking his head. "So?" he asked, the single syllable ringing in the air, though the pieces were slowly clicking together in his mind.

When he woke up that day, he was surrounded by these very walls. When he woke up, they asked for his name, laughing because he couldn't remember. When he woke up...he held onto one thing. _Monday. Damon. Mon-day. Da-mon._

He looked swiftly at his daughter. "Cleo," he said, and wrapped his trembling arms around her slender neck. "Cleo," he repeated, over and over, as the memories of Mondays long ago poured out from every crevice of his dusty brain, darting around them and settling down on their shoulders like a warm, comforting blanket.

**Author's note**

Gosh, I am so sorry for the shortness of this chapter. It actually took me a long time to write, and I'm still not fully satisfied with it, but I've had a crazy busy year and this week is midterm week. So, between study sessions, I finished this chapter.

Thank you for your continued support and reviews. I truly appreciate it!

Also, if any of you have YouTube accounts and feel like humoring me, I'd love more subscribers. My username is 327ecb. If posting this is against the site rules somehow, let me know and I'll gladly take it down.

Thank you thank you thank you! Don't forget to send in requests for upcoming chapters - and remember, if I really like one of your ideas, I'll write you a one-shot fanfiction from any of the following fandoms: Glee, Once Upon A Time, How I Met Your Mother, The Office, Harry Potter, The Mysterious Benedict Society, and iCarly. Those are the ones I know best, and can better guarantee the accuracy of my character portrayal, but I'm also flexible and will happily write any type of fanfiction if given some background (and I do participate in other fandoms, those listed are my main ones) - I'll gladly do a real-life fanfiction, too. As in, pairing you with a celebrity, or something like that.

Actually, I'm dying to write a one-shot for somebody other than myself. So I may just open this little contest thing up to everybody.

If you're interested, let me know in a review, stating what fandom/person you want featured in this one-shot, and if it looks like it will work out, I will message you with further details.

Thanks!

~ecb327~


	31. Chapter 32

**Thanks, StarburstAwesomeness – I used your idea in this chapter. I owe you a one-shot; PM me and let me know what fandom you want! And everyone remember, this contest is always open, so leave a suggestion in the review and if I use it, I'll write you a one-shot of your choice.**

**Milligan**

They stood on the landing of a very steep and decrepit staircase. It was not unpleasantly so, however; in fact, it was nearly comforting. It felt _real_, if misplaced, and McCracken's lair was full of cold, glaring metal and the distinct feeling of moving about in a nightmare. The stairs descended onto a sandy shoreline – not white fluffy sand, but the cool, pebbly, rough kind belonging to beaches more for walking than for swimming. It was neither dark nor startlingly bright: the sun was visible behind a cluster of semi opaque clouds and a slight, salty breeze rippled across the waterfront.

This was, to say the least, peculiar. The location of McCracken's headquarters was unknown, though up until now they had all assumed that he took advantage of some sort of abandoned industrial lot. But this – this place was hardly that. It seemed that the farther they had gotten from the center of the building, the closer they had come to some sort of refreshing reality. A brick foundation merged gradually into steel beams, which eventually extended up into the hulk of metal that, for whatever reason, was McCracken's choice hiding place.

Still, it wasn't like Milligan could stand there and contemplate this for awhile (though he certainly had an inkling). Rubbing some of the gel out of his hair and making a face as he wiped it off on his pant leg, he said gruffly, "No time for explanations."

"None needed," said Mr. Benedict. "Thank you."

"You can thank me later," said Milligan, struggling out of his black uniform. "There's a very groggy and possibly murderous Ten Man sprawled out in the broom closet in McCracken's back room, so we have to run."

"Excellent," Mr. Benedict said crisply. Though he was clearly exhausted, his eyes had brightened in the fresh air.

Milligan muttered, "Oh, for heaven's sake," and darted forward, roughly pulling Mr. Benedict into a hug. "You're welcome," he said firmly, making it very clear that this conversation was over.

Politely inclining his head in acknowledgement, Mr. Benedict asked, "So, where to?"

"We have some children to save," replied Milligan, now standing before him in his usual disheveled state.

Fear crept into the back of his mind, an image of his daughter flashing in his head. Kate – ruthless, headstrong, proud Kate. Somehow, and he wasn't quite sure how, she had grown up. She was a young lady now, yet still had the lingering innocence and naiveté of a child. It was blatantly obvious that she remained oblivious to the fact that she was really quite pretty and very striking, a fact that Milligan remained ambivalent about. Part of him instinctively wanted to preserve this guilelessness forever, but he also knew that at some point a boy would enter the picture – had probably already entered the picture; Reynie's lingering glances at his daughter were not lost on him. He prayed that Kate was prepared enough, wise enough, understanding enough to grasp the fact that she was a remarkable young woman, and that this was something that many found attractive.

He was momentarily wrapped up in emotion and became abruptly aware that Mr. Benedict was talking to him.

"Sorry, what?" he asked.

"I was only wondering where we ought to go to next. It would perhaps be prudent to formulate some sort of plan before we go barging in and recklessly knock some heads together. Not that I deem you incapable of carrying off such an undertaking," he said, nodding graciously at Milligan, "but it is my opinion that –"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," said Milligan dismissively – of _course_ he had a plan – and started down to the waterfront. "Follow me."

"Where are we, anyway?" asked Mr. Benedict. "I wasn't aware that this place even existed."

"It's a secret passageway, only outside," explained Milligan. "McCracken comes here quite often to have a break from being an evil dictator, and there's a large cellar through which you can access almost any room in these headquarters."

"Right," said Mr. Benedict agreeably. "Where is this cellar?"

"Somewhere around here," said Milligan, licking his lips nervously. He was acutely aware that a lot was riding on his ability to get everyone out of there, and if he couldn't find the cellar, well, that was a major problem.

"It wouldn't happen to be here, would it?" asked Mr. Benedict with an amused smile, pointing to a large door comprised of driftwood, clumsily painted a dark, mossy green.

"Thanks," said Milligan, hurrying forth. With a grunt, he pulled the mass of sticks and chopped up logs aside, exposing a dimly lit cave. It smelled distinctly of mold. He wrinkled his nose. "Well, come along," he said.

They were just stepping in when an arm shot out of nowhere and a hand clamped down around Milligan's mouth. In the space of two seconds, his wrists were bound and a thick strip of cloth was biting into the edges of his lips, rendering him speechless.

"You shouldn't be here," said a voice. He spun around. A woman, who appeared to be about his age, stood there, wearing a pair of fitted black pants and a blue and white striped t-shirt, its sleeves rolled up. She had calm gray eyes and an untroubled expression on her face. If anything, it was mildly taken aback as she looked over her victim.

"Oh, please," said Mr. Benedict good-naturedly. "Won't you let him go?"

Ignoring him, she released Milligan of her own accord. "Do I know you?" she asked a bit suspiciously, squinting at him and swiping a strand of her dirty blonde hair out of her face. "Are you – you're not...?"

Holding his hands up in surrender, Milligan said warily, "We aren't with McCracken, if that's what you're asking."

"No no – it's just that..." She faltered, but shook her head quickly and, to both Milligan and Mr. Benedict's surprise, perched on the edge of a mossy rock, briskly patting the spot next to her. Nonplussed, they seated themselves.

"I'm sorry, who are you again?" asked Mr. Benedict, extending a hand.

She stared at it for a moment, then gripped it so hard that he winced. "I'm Harper."

"Nice to meet you," said Milligan, peering at her strangely. She peeked at him, then hastily looked away. Mr. Benedict observed this, but chose to say nothing, instead rubbing his hands together.

"So what do you know about McCracken?" she asked, twirling a stem between her fingers.

"What do you want to know?" Milligan asked warily, feeling a bizarre compulsion to not look at her.

"Oh, come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "I _live_ here. I hate them as much as you do. They ruined our town, and I'm the only one left who they didn't either recruit as Ten Men or trap them for their awful 'experiments.'" She made a noise of disgust, then continued, "You can trust me." Milligan remained silent, and she added, "Or don't."

Mr. Benedict cast a glance at Milligan, who was staring determinedly at his lap. "Well, I believe you, and wouldn't object to answering your questions, except we are a little pressed for time."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "Oh, please tell me it's something interesting."

Milligan raised an eyebrow.

"I stay here all day and sleep under there all night," she said bitterly, pointing to the small alcove underneath the staircase. "I catch fish with my bare hands and build fires to cook them on. Literally all I have here are a water filter, the few clothes that I could snatch before McCracken invaded this place, a bar of soap, and a bucket full of random odds and ends in case there's a surprise attack or, I don't know, an apocalypse." She shook her head. "I hate when I can't be active, you know? I'm always itching for adventure and –"

Milligan's head snapped up. "A bucket?"

"Yeah," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "They're convenient, you know? I can put whatever I want in it, and it's got all my other essentials – string and my pocketknife and stuff."

Milligan gaped at her, then caught himself and, heat rising to his cheeks, ducked his head again. If she noticed, she didn't say a word.

"Great," said Mr. Benedict energetically. He stood up, then graciously offered Harper a hand, which she declined, jumping to her feet quite agilely.

"Okay, what's the situation?" she asked. "Brief me."

"Four – five – children are in there," said Mr. Benedict, "including his daughter." He gestured to Milligan, whose immediate look of distress was enough to soften Harper's perpetually determined expression. "We've been involved with the Ten Men and McCracken before; he himself used to be a Ten Man back when my evil twin brother was conspiring to take over the world using a device he dubbed 'The Whisperer.' It was an unfortunate situation, and up until recently we had no idea that McCracken somehow eluded his imprisonment and escaped from the facility in which he was intended to stay the rest of his life."

Despite how absurd all of this sounded, Harper, to her credit, mulled over it for a few seconds before nodding solemnly. "So we have to get the kids out of there," she said.

"That's about it," Milligan confirmed. "And we have to hurry."

"The kids – they're good kids?" she asked somewhat anxiously.

"The best," said Milligan quietly. Oh, Kate...

"Right," she said, tossing her hair back into a high ponytail. "Let's do this."

**So, that's it. Sorry for the delay in updates. I hope you liked this chapter; it's been in the works for quite some time! I will try my best to get another chapter up in the next week, but I say that a lot and it tends to not happen.**

**Let me know what you think, and feel free to keep giving me suggestions and requests. Whose POV do you want to see in the next chapter? What did you think of Harper, and Milligan?**

**As usual, thank you so so so much for your patience with me and support and positive reviews, it actually means SO much to me! Thank you. 3**


	32. Chapter 33

**Kate**

She was vaguely aware of Reynie's arm under her back, warm and reassuring, as she wrenched her eyes open. For a moment she lay there, dazed, and then shot up, gasping for air, in the same way that a person does when shaken out of a nightmare.

"What's going on?" she asked, shoving herself into a standing position by her elbows. Her arms gave out, though, and she fell to the ground, instead kneeling weakly on the floor.

"Are you okay?" Reynie peered at her, his arm lingering a few centimeters from her shoulder, just in case she wasn't.

"I – I think so," she stammered. "Where are we?"

"In a cell somewhere under McCracken's headquarters," he said. He paused, brow knit in concern, then reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm, uh... glad you're okay," he said in a low voice. She looked somewhat blearily at him, then gave a faint smile and intertwined their fingers.

"Gross," commented Constance, wrinkling up her nose.

"Connie-girl!" cried Kate, trying to launch herself across the room but collapsing again. She turned helplessly to Reynie, and as her tired eyes finally focused she cringed, inhaling sharply. "Reynie!"

"It's okay," he said hurriedly, gesturing to his split lip and black eye. "It's nothing, really."

"What happened?" Kate demanded, regaining her strength and sounding as fierce as always, though she was exhausted.

"Reynie went berserk after the Ten Men pressed the button. Needless to say, our attempts to restrain him – and them – were futile. Hi, Kate," added Sticky, who was hunched over gloomily in the corner of the tiny cell.

"You_ what_? You_ did_ that? For me?" She pretended not to be impressed, but Reynie saw through her and ducked his head, smiling. Constance scrutinized his expression. Good gracious, was he even _capable _of thinking about anything but his feelings for Kate? She rolled her eyes in impatience (she'd been hoping that she'd be able to read some brilliant plan formulating in his mind), then snapped,

"As touching as this is, can we start talking about an escape plan?"

"Yeah, I..." Kate stopped for a moment, confused. "Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I just got a little disoriented there. Did that happen to you?"

Constance nodded solemnly. "Did it hurt, when you woke up? Like an ache you can't describe... and so much pain when you're in it, when they're torturing you?"

"Yes," murmured Kate, and the two girls locked eyes, bound together by their shared experience. "They showed me things," she said deliberately, "that I didn't recognize until I... until I got deeper in. And it was like – like these images, and videos, that I couldn't – I didn't – they weren't mine, but at the same time they were –" she trailed off, a lump rising in her throat. She swallowed, licking her lips. "It was... awful," she said quietly. "Memories I didn't know I had. Things that happened to me that I must have somehow, like... erased from my mind. Or hidden. Things about my life at the circus. Losing Milligan and my – my mom. God, I don't even... I don't think I even remember her."

"I'm sorry," whispered Reynie, and Sticky lay a trembling hand on her arm. He'd been too petrified to move ever since Cleo was taken away and they'd been cornered by McCracken, but seeing Kate in pain was more than he could bear. Despite the fact that the former wouldn't leave his mind, the latter was practically his sister, and as he saw tears begin to form in her eyes, he simply couldn't take it any longer. Anger rapidly surged through his veins and he jumped to his feet.

"This isn't fair!" he shouted hotly, his voice echoing against the metal walls. "Not! Fair! This is awful and terrible and I can't stand it! I swear –"

"Sticky..." Reynie shot him a warning look. It wasn't as if they had anything better to do, but still, these were less than ideal circumstances under which to go off on a heated, emotional tangent, fueled by a large amount of sleep deprivation, through-the-roof stress levels, and, unfortunately, typical teenage angst.

But Sticky, to whom self confidence and the ability to express any emotion other than mild annoyance were novelties, went on."You know what?" S.Q. flinched, then sighed and shut his eyes tolerantly. He was used to people yelling and, in fact, was rather pleased that this tirade didn't seem to be directed at him for once. Sticky started pacing furiously and at such an alarming speed that Kate felt obliged to extend a hand in case he should dizzy himself and take a tumble. "It doesn't even matter!" he all but screamed. "We'll just be stuck here forever, won't we? 'Cause that's how it's looking! You hear that, McCracken?" He banged on the sides of the cell, looking rather deranged. "You think you got us beat? Yeah, well you DON'T!" This was said with such ferocity that he did stumble, shaken by the force of his own rage. Righting himself, he assumed a stormy expression and opened his mouth to continue.

"Sticky, stop," said Reynie firmly, who still had an eye on Kate. He'd never seen her like this before. She was staring at something intently, something that he couldn't see, and Constance was kneeling somberly before her, a look of great concentration on her face. Every so often, she winced slightly, then resumed their – well, whatever it was that they were doing.

"Reynie?" Sticky was looking at him hopelessly, toothpick-like arms flailing. He had lost his momentum now, and instead flopped to the ground, drawing his knees up to his chest and taking a deep breath. Pause. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice a bit hoarse from his outburst. Another pause. "Guys?"

S.Q., exhausted, had fallen asleep, and Reynie was staring at Kate and Constance, both of whom were positively perplexing him. His audience otherwise occupied, Sticky slid himself backwards on the floor so that he could lean up against the wall once more.

Kate was in her own world. Kate's world, a place she had never been before. She was no longer sheltered, no longer able to maintain her facade of confidence and unfailing optimism. Somehow, and she wasn't sure how, Constance was manipulating her mind.

Well, not quite _manipulating_ it. But she was inside Kate's head, passing memories back and forth. They were sorting through the tangled messes that McCracken's wretched button had created, working in tandem as they tried to put the puzzle pieces back together.

_I know what the button does_, whispered Constance in Kate's mind. Kate, to her surprise, found that she could now read Constance as well as the little girl could read everyone else.

_What?_ she asked, flummoxed.

Constance shivered. _It breaks down the wall we make in our minds. We build compartments so we can hide bad memories and pain. That's why you can never remember emotional pain the way you can remember physical pain. You've broken your arms a million times, and I'm sure you're still able to recall it, and feel the slight ache, and remember that pain. But emotional pain, bad memories – they all go in a separate part of our brain. The button exposes it. When the Ten Men press it, somehow everything comes back to you. I don't know how they did it, but it's the most powerful weapon a person could yield. Physical pain is one thing; emotional pain is another. You saw what happened to both of us. Yes, it all begins with physical pain, but even that is the kind of excruciating pain that your brain makes you forget. Like fires or burns or broken ribs and things like that. And then it leads into emotional pain; things you vehemently insisted on "forgetting". Your brain protects you from painful memories, but McCracken makes them all come back to haunt you. He breaks down those barriers. Oh, don't you see? It's all so clear now – the weapon, _this_ weapon, isn't about physical force. It's about taking your enemies down by debilitating them and filling their memories with the kind of pain that won't go away with a few bandages and a dose of painkillers. McCracken is a brilliant genius – a brilliant, evil, awful, messed up genius._

Kate, to say the least, was shocked, and took several moments to process this information.

First of all, Constance sounded ten times as coherent and mature as she did even in person. Mr. Benedict had always seen this potential, knew that she had the capacity to analyze and make sense of things much more weighted than reconstructing maps and solving clues. Kate had not been dubious, exactly, but she'd always felt that it put too much pressure on a child who was only just beginning to maneuver her way through this strange, confusing world. And secondly, her revelation, her explanation, was so straightforward, as if the truth had been obvious all along and she simply hadn't gotten around to speaking it yet.

"Yes," Kate murmured out loud. Reynie was eyeing her intensely. She ignored this and, struggling to focus on the issue at hand, dragged herself into an upright position. "Constance –"

The little girl, enervated, impulsively scooted across the floor, settling herself in the comfort of Kate's open arm. And promptly fell asleep.

"Are you okay?" asked Reynie. Nonplussed as he was, Kate's wellbeing came first and foremost now – and had, he suspected, for quite a bit longer than he'd ever realized.

"I'm okay," she said, shutting her eyes for a second. "I"ll be fine."

"Okay," he said, only half-believing her. He faltered, then added, "You don't need to be so strong, you know."

Her head snapped up. "What?" she asked somewhat sharply.

Taken aback, Reynie stammered, "I – I just mean that you're perfect, the way you are. You don't need to change yourself, you know?"

She looked blankly at him.

"I mean... you just, you're strong, you're confident, we all know that. But nobody is invincible. Nobody's like that all the time. And if you're not okay, well, that's okay. You can't keep fighting your feelings."

"Neither can you," she said.

"I know," he replied.

They looked at each other for a moment, and then Sticky jumped to his feet. "Do you hear that?" he hissed.

"No," said Kate wearily.

"Someone's coming." He cradled his head in his hands. "We're done for."

"No, we're not," said S.Q., whose presence, to be quite honest, they'd all somewhat forgotten about. "Look, I may not be the dullest knife in the box," he continued (the children exchanged confused looks), "but I know enough to know that you can't just give up like that. I mean, you can never really give up. Even if we _are_ done for, well, wouldn't you rather be finished off still feeling hopeful rather than dying in defeat?" He looked earnestly at the group. "Right?"

"You're right," said Reynie. This sudden burst of intelligence was a surprise, but he'd never doubted for a moment that their gentle giant was smart; they just hadn't made an appearance until now.

"Agreed," said Kate.

"I think it's a load of nonsense," grumbled Constance, though everyone knew she was lying.

Sticky felt a bit humiliated. He never belonged in this group of fearless leaders, now did he? It just figured. Planning to sacrifice himself when the Ten Men eventually caught up to them, he conceded, "Alright, alright. I get it."

The footsteps were coming closer, but as they waited tensely, they realized that the sounds were not exactly footsteps, and, for that matter, weren't coming from the hallway. Before they could express their confusion, there was an awful screeching noise of metal against metal and a tiny vent in the ceiling opened up. Three figures dropped down, two landing clumsily and one maintaining her balance as if the sudden drop was nothing.

"Harper," said the blond woman briskly, not even bothering to give a full introduction. "I'm here to rescue you."

_Author's note_

So, there's that – part, if not all, of the explanation of the button that I assume everyone has been waiting for! What do you think of it? Let me know! I love reading your reviews and I take all suggestions into account.

Speaking of which, **StarburstAwesomeness**, I PM'd you about your one shot and I'm not sure if you didn't get it – but reply when you can so I can get started on that. To **agirlgleek144**, I'm fairly certain that I'm going to be using some of your ideas, so I'll let you know more once I've finalized and posted my next chapter.

In response to **Buckety Kate**, I used Dakota Fanning as Kate and Logan Lerman as Reynie. To be honest, I'm re-thinking my use of Dakota as Kate and might post a new story cover photo soon, so if you have any actress or actor suggestions – like who you would like to see play Kate and Reynie if there was an MBS movie – let me know in the reviews section! This goes for everyone!

I'll hopefully get a new chapter up soon. As usual, thanks for your patience, I really appreciate it.


	33. Chapter 34

**Hey guys, so sorry I haven't updated in awhile! I've been crazy busy with tests and other fics and studying for the bio SAT, which it turns out I'm not even going to take because my mom registered me wrong... anyway, I decided to flash back a little bit and do Harper's POV from right after she met Milligan. Hope it's not too confusing and people are still reading this! Thank you to my lovely fans, you're the greatest 3**

**Also, I'm working on assembling a cast list in Google Drive, and when I'm done I'll post the link so you all can take a look, if you think you would be interested in that.**

**Harper**

He had said his name was Milligan, but that didn't seem to fit him, somehow. She wracked her brains as they set off into the corridor, aided by a narrow beam of light, thanks to her just-in-case-there's-an-apocalypse flashlight. She didn't particularly know why it was that as long as she could remember, she had been fiercely independent, unusually agile, and, she rather thought, a tad more talented than the average woman when it came to making split second decisions, gauging distances in the blink of an eye, and getting from point A to point B without batting an eyelash.

Except this strange man had entered her life and in a matter of minutes everything had changed. Silently cursing herself for losing focus, she shifted her mind elsewhere.

"So, where does this tunnel lead to?" asked Milligan. Though he whispered this, his voice echoed against the walls.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure," she said, congratulating herself for sounding so business-like (she'd been afraid that the second she opened her mouth she'd say something bumbling and incoherent or, worse, say nothing at all), "but we'll probably find out soon." She gestured to a glint of metal in the distance. "I'd say three hundred feet, six and a half inches."

The hallway was brightening up considerably as they drew nearer; Milligan shot her a peculiar look, which she saw out of the corner of her eye and chose to analyze later.

"Any idea where the kids are?" she asked gruffly.

"Well, by now he's probably shoved them in a cell somewhere," said Milligan stormily. She got the sense that he was a normally calm man, but when the children's lives were in danger his tone of voice became strained as if barely containing a pulsing ball of anger.

"Right," she said briskly as they got close enough to see what was ahead, "it looks like some sort of pothole-type thing." She cringed inwardly. _"Pothole-type thing"? Pathetic. Pull it together, Harper._

"I do wonder where it leads," mused Mr. Benedict, stroking his frowzy beard. "I suppose it's probably an entrance into his office, or a watch tower, both of which would be convenient."

"Ready to find out?" asked Milligan, who had sped up in order to get there first. It did appear to be the kind of port you see on boats and things of that nature.

Disgruntled that he seemed to feel the need to go ahead - really, did he think she was that incapable? - Harper hastily reached for the handle. A split second later, she'd been tackled and shoved against the still-earthen wall of the tunnel. "What the -"

"Thank me later," muttered Milligan into her ear. She was acutely aware of his warmth pressed up behind her and his hands, surprisingly gentle, over her mouth. Oh, this was ridiculous. Heat rushed to her face - thank goodness it was so dark; they'd retreated back into the shadows of the corridor - and she mentally slapped herself. Just because she hadn't seen, let alone talked to, a man of her age in forever didn't mean that she should, could, or would have feelings for the first guy that showed up.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

"Good one, Milligan," Mr. Benedict said next to him, with a pat of approval.

"What in the world are you talking about?" asked Harper, frustrated beyond belief.

Milligan nodded towards a small red light affixed to the frame above the entrance. As they watched, it turned a hot, angry red and a high-pitched, whiny alarm started to go off. A laser unfolded from the dot of light and began scanning the area. Though it came dangerously close - centimeters from her left cheek - it receded and the light dimmed, alarms winding down.

They tip-toed cautiously towards the entrance, then, and ever so carefully twisted the handle around, then waited with bated breath, poised to run if McCracken had any additional defenses set up. Apparently he didn't.

"Let's go," said Milligan in a low voice. "Harper?"

Her heartbeat sped up as he said her name, and she looked nervously at him. They made uncomfortable eye contact for a moment before Mr. Benedict subtly cleared his throat and, red-faced, she seized a lip of the pothole. In no time at all, they'd removed it completely.

"Wow," breathed Harper, climbing through the aperture. They had stepped into a seemingly abandoned atrium, all white and silver and blinding metal. "This is what his headquarters look like?"

"No time for that," Milligan snapped.

_Good gracious, what in heaven's name is _wrong_ with you? I'm telling you, _pull it together!"Sorry," she mumbled.

"We need a map," said Milligan sharply.

"Right," said Mr. Benedict, striding confidently over to a small, slim laptop perched nearby. He opened it and, deftly tapping the keyboard, pulled up a map.

"How did he...?" Harper began to ask, but Milligan shook his head.

"Nobody knows," he replied, smiling slightly.

They crowded round the laptop anxiously. A map had popped up, which Mr. Benedict was studying closely. There were a bunch of numbered quadrants and color-coded (the colors used were, of course, varying shades of brown and grey) sections and tiny annotations that, evidently, he could decipher. "Someone's coming," he said mildly, snapping the laptop shut. "This way."

They hurried after him, unable to react, and he led them down yet another desolate hallway. He paused, looking quickly from side to side before making the universal "all clear" sign.

"Here we are," he said a mere thirty seconds later. He motioned for them to join him. "Stay tight to the wall." Pressed up against what appeared to be yet another endless, monotone sheet of metal, Harper and Milligan held their breath. Mr. Benedict was deep in thought.

"So, how long have you been living like this?" whispered Milligan.

"Since - "

Mr. Benedict rapped the wall sharply, then tapped their knuckles and jerked his head down an opposite hallway.

"Where are we going?" hissed Harper.

"Don't ask, just follow," replied Milligan, offering a crooked smile. She felt her insides flip flop, followed by a wave of frustration, and sped up so as to avoid making eye contact again.

"Here we are." Mr. Benedict rubbed his hands together. "Harper, would you mind...?"

"What?" She followed his line of sight upwards, gaze falling on a small, barely noticeable vent. "Right. Um, can one of you - "

She'd looked to Mr. Benedict, but Milligan swiftly came forth and boosted her up. "You got it?" he asked, bearing her weight with impressive ease.

"I think so," she said, scrambling to get her fingers over the edge of the vent. However, there was the fact that she was still hanging onto a thin metal rim, body pressed against a decidedly smooth and slippery wall. Glancing down, she saw that Milligan still had her firmly supported, one arm wrapped securely around her lower leg. "Er... would you mind just, um, holding me like that?" she asked, stumbling over words. This was getting ridiculous.

"Of course," he said, the warmth of his hand pressing against her kneecap reassuring and also relatively distracting.

She gritted her teeth and concluded that she was going insane.

Ah, feelings. How muddled they make things; how utterly irritating they are. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? You see, they are tricky things with a rather unfortunate tendency to prod you at the least convenient - and most unpleasant - times. What's more, even if you put your metaphorical shields up and avoid the incessant nagging, eventually they come back, ten times as strong as before, and you're stuck dealing with an utter mess. Yes, feelings are uncomfortable, wonderful, crazy, marvelous things indeed.

"Harper?" Mr. Benedict was looking up at her kindly, but she sensed impatience and urgency behind his tone of voice.

"Sorry, sorry!" _Okay, Harper. This is absolutely _not_ the time to burst into tears or curl up in a blob of embarrassingly strong emotions, or whatever you want to call them. Right now, you're in a rather perilous situation, which may or may not determine the survival of five children, so for the love of god, please just pull it together and get that darn vent open._ The pep talk seemed to work. Pleased with herself, she grabbed her screwdriver, twisted the base around until the right size came up, and within eight seconds had the vent open. "Catch," she said, tossing it down to Mr. Benedict, who nodded appreciatively.

The duct was about a foot and a half square, but this challenge was refreshing. She'd been trapped with nothing to do for so long that she was relieved, if out of practice, to be faced with an actually productive task. One can only play tic tac toe against themselves for so long.

"I'm going in," she informed the others. "I'll toss down a rope in a little bit, okay?"

"Copacetic," said Milligan, and winced as though he'd just said something mortifying. "I mean, okay, good, sounds like a plan."

"Um, Milligan?"

"Yeah?"

"You can let go of my leg now."

"Oh, right."

So... that happened. Harper carefully slipped two arms into the shaft, pressing firmly against the sides to brace herself as he relinquished his grip. Very, very slowly and cautiously she pulled forward until her shoulders were completely inside the narrow passageway.

Now came the hard part. Sucking in a deep breath, she leveled her head so it was at the same angle as the opening, and slid smoothly inside. Scrabbling blindly at the metal edges - it was pitch black - she wiggled easily forth. Now she was completely within the flue. Pausing only a moment to catch her breath, she continued towards the small glimmer of light up above. It took her thirty-three seconds to reach it. Peering through the slits of the other vent, she glimpsed heads and heard children's voices. Footsteps echoing against the passageway, she slid backwards a few feet, and called out to Milligan.

"Boost me up," he instructed Mr. Benedict immediately. The man obliged, and with an indignant "Oomph!" he was in, staring directly at Harper's feet.

"You there?" she asked.

"Right here," replied Milligan. "Should we bring Mr. Benedict up?"

"Ah, yes, that. Here you are." Harper extracted a long, supremely strong rope from her pocket, and passed it back until their fingers touched. For a brief, breathless interval his hand overlapped hers, and then he withdrew, mumbling a thanks.

He dropped the rope down and, ignoring Harper's protests - she insisted that she really didn't mind helping - single-handedly pulled Mr. Benedict up.

At this point the vent was a tad over-crowded. This was a small problem, seeing as they were on an urgent rescue mission and being able to breathe was somewhat of a priority.

"Hurry," Milligan said in a choked whisper to Harper.

"Hold on!" Flustered, she inched forward as quickly as possible and reached the other vent. In no time at all, she'd unscrewed the bolts, moved it to the side, and jumped out, followed by Milligan and Mr. Benedict.

A tall blond girl, a handsome teenage boy, another one, who was lankier and African-American, a five- or six-year-old, and an extremely awkward looking, freckled young man looked back at her, eyes wide.

"Harper," she said briskly. "I'm here to rescue you."


	34. Chapter 35

**In response to guest reviewer sofia - no, I did not intentionally copy that from the book, but thank you for pointing that out! To be honest, it was awhile ago when I wrote that chapter, and it's possible that I subconsciously copied the line, but to my knowledge that was merely part of my writing style and original. I'm very sorry if that bothered you, and let me know in the reviews if any of you would like for me to change it. I don't believe that it's a huge issue, but copying can be offensive to some people, so yes, let me know. I hope that didn't detract from your opinion of the story, and would appreciate it if your next review (if there is one) included some feedback on my writing as well. Thanks!**

**Kate**

"Milligan!" she cried, rushing over to her father. He received her rambunctious embrace with the expertise of one accustomed to Kate Wetherall hugs (bracing himself and taking a deep breath before she crushed him with the bare strength of her arms), then pulled away, ruffling up Reynie's hair.

"What happened? What's going on?" Sticky asked breathlessly. "Who are you?"

The blond woman was hanging back, watching the scene unfold. She was also, Kate observed, staring at Milligan a great deal. This bothered her slightly.

To the side, Mr. Benedict and Constance were having a joyful reunion as Constance tripped over her words trying to fill him in on everything. "Shh," he finally said, placing a hand on her head. "Give yourself time to breathe." In fact, she was so very excitable that this exchange was followed by an hour-long bout of hiccups.

Everyone was chatting hurriedly, quite avoidant of the dire nature of the situation, which left S.Q. to ask the obvious question. Rubbing his neck self-consciously - no one was throwing their arms around _him_ - he tapped Milligan gingerly on the arm and said, "How are we getting out?"

This sobered them all up instantly. "Goodness gracious, S.Q., why didn't you say something earlier?" asked Kate. "How _are_ we getting out?"

"Why, through the vent, I assumed," said Reynie.

Milligan and Harper exchanged a sharp look and a flurry of nods and random hand gestures. Kate scowled and cleared her throat. They both turned towards her at once and quieted.

"Where does it lead?" asked Constance. S.Q. had picked her up again and she was looking very smug and comfortable indeed. "I mean, is it - _hiccup _- safe?"

"Well, when we came here, the hall was empty, but there's no promising that it'll be empty if we try to go back that way, and I don't know if we could get you all outside in time," Harper explained. "I don't know, Milligan, what do you think?"

He struggled with himself for a moment, then sighed, "Kate, I know you're raring to go, but you realize how serious this situation is, right?"

Kate was bobbing up and down on her feet, glancing anxiously up at the vent and back at her father imploringly. "Can I at least go take a look and then give you the all clear? I'll come back if there's a problem."

Mr. Benedict and Milligan murmured to each other for a moment, and then the latter said, "Okay. You can go as long as Harper accompanies you."

Kate, who'd jumped up, groaned. "_Harper?_ Why?" She looked at the woman in distaste.

"Because, Kate," Milligan said warningly, "you are still underage by a great deal and have a rather hot head sometimes. You are impulsive, which is a good thing, but can sometimes put you at a disadvantage in the 'good judgment' department."

"Right," Kate said grumpily. "Okay, then."

Harper gave a weak smile. "I'll boost you up."

"Good luck," whispered Reynie, squeezing Kate's hand. "I'll be here."

"Thanks," she said somewhat distractedly, as she was already clambering up and gripping onto the edge of the opening. Nimbly, she slipped inside and disappeared in under five seconds.

"I'm impressed," Harper commented. Kate made a muffled comment which no one could quite pick out - probably a good thing. "Okay, Kate? Will you pull me up?"

"Hold on." There was a fumbling, and then the rope dropped down from the ceiling. Harper seized it and nimbly joined the girl. "So who are you, really?" Kate asked a bit rudely, slipping through the vent.

"I told you, I'm Harper."

"Don't think I don't notice you staring at my dad," commented Kate. Her tone was light, but vaguely threatening.

"I - what?"

"Oh, never mind," she snapped. "Come on, then."

Realizing abruptly that, for once in her life, she was not the person waiting impatiently for everybody else to catch up, Harper scurried through the passageway and halted obediently at Kate's outstretched hand. "Do you see anyone?"

"No, but I can't be sure." Kate struggled for a moment to extract something from her pocket. Unfortunately, her arm was at too awkward an angle to do so, and, gritting her teeth, she asked painfully, "Do you happen to have a telescope on you?"

"What? Oh, yeah, of course!"

"Thank you." Kate grabbed it from Harper and stuck her head out, assessing the situation. The hallway was empty from what she could see, and without another word she began scooting backwards, accidentally kicking the woman's nose in the process. "Sorry," she said curtly, and then a wave of guilt subsumed her. What had gotten into her?

It was just that she felt as if she'd only just gotten her father back, and she didn't want anybody else to come in and mess up their dynamic. Though she would never admit it to herself, she was scared - for a multitude of primarily valid reasons. For one, she didn't want to die here, and was determined to make the Ten Men pay for what they'd done. Secondly, this business with Reynie was frightening in an altogether different way. Her fear of Harper was similar: the appearance of this new woman was uncomfortable on a deep emotional level. If she lost either Reynie's friendship or her father's focus, she didn't know what to do. Like many of us, the prospect of change simply was not a welcome one to her.

Resolving to be kinder, she asked courteously, "Do you want to tell the others it's safe?"

"Sure," said Harper as Kate pulled out the rope as they neared the entrance.

"Cool," Kate said, smiling briefly, and for a moment everything was just peachy.

That is, until they descended from the ceiling and found McCracken smirking at them amongst the children - including Cleo - Mr. Benedict, Milligan, and S.Q., all of whom were gagged, handcuffed, and unconscious.

_Author's note (cont'd):_

**StarburstAwesomeness, **I have yet to hear from you in regards to your oneshot, so PM me if you are still interested. **agirlgleek144, **I've lost track at this point of if I'm using your suggestions from awhile back, but I've decided to write you a oneshot anyway, for being patient and wonderful, if you're interested!


	35. Chapter 36

**Damon**

The Ten Men were whispering as they huddled together, Damon and Cleo standing off to the side.

"I'm so sorry, Cleo, I - I'm still confused, I guess - you're my _daughter_." He gazed at her, speechless.

She was about to respond when McCracken swept in. "Now, this won't do," he said. "Really, I must say that I'm impressed. Damon, the long-lost daddy of this traitor?" He seized Cleo's arm roughly, dragging her so that he stood between father and daughter. "What a turn of events. How perfectly charming."

He did seem genuinely put off, which was good, but also angry, which was bad.

"Right. As much of a tearjerker as this is, I've no time to spare for such sickening, emotional reunions. Hand it over."

"What?"

"The button. Hand it over."

"I - no. What are you going to -"

With a bored expression, McCracken seized it and, in a split second, had it pointed at Cleo. "If you want to keep the girl, you'll let me keep this," he said, idly stroking the side of his face with his free hand.

Damon's heart was pounding. Cleo looked so helpless, so frightened, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he would have his revenge. How to go about it, though, was another story. The art of knowing when to act and when to stand by waiting for a more profitable opportunity is one no doubt best known to crooks and criminals such as himself, and so through gritted teeth he said, "Fine."

McCracken's finger still hovered over the button.

"I said fine!" yelled Damon, reaching for his daughter.

"Oh, please, as if I'd use it on that pathetic little thing." McCracken stowed the button away in his breast pocket, chuckling to himself. "You really must be less jumpy." He was met with a stony glare, and after a moment sighed. "Very well." At the snap of his fingers, five Ten Men marched over and snatched Damon, while another five tied Cleo's hands together. Grinning at each other, as McCracken stood smugly and watched, each group brought all five of their handkerchiefs down on their appointed victim, and the ties between father and daughter were broken once more.

_xxxxx_

He woke up several hours later, though to him the passage of time was frozen, as is generally the case when one has been knocked out cold and awakens in a dark cellar. Disorientation being another characteristic of such scenarios, he looked about wildly, unseeingly, before remembering what he had gotten himself into. A wave of guilt subsumed him. He hadn't told Cleo, but he's been watching her for a good number of years now, not knowing who she was to him, and the shame that this fact caused was unbearable. How could he have stalked out his daughter, tagged her, bugged her phone conversations, reported to McCracken, and appointed her to be Mackenzie's target – all without thinking twice? Shouldn't he have felt something? Some hesitation? Anything?

She was so lively by nature. When she first met Sticky, her true personality showed through: warm, strong, loving, compassionate. Only he could see the torture lurking behind those gorgeous hazel eyes as she befriended the boy, and he now realized that it wasn't only the betrayal causing her pain: she genuinely cared for him. When she disclosed her true identity to the others, some terrible cloud seemed to descend upon her. It was because of his actions that she became the trembling, powerless little girl that she was now, that the Ten Men had put to sleep without batting an eyelash, whose struggles were futile.

(Never fear, dear reader - please be assured that Cleo _will _recover and, I daresay, surprise even herself with her own strength. All in due course.)

So consumed in his own thoughts was Damon that he didn't hear the sound of whispering until a hand crept up to touch his arm. With a shriek that was remarkably feminine, he tried to regain his composure while a voice said,

"Excuse me, but are you - I can't help but notice that you haven't been bound and - well, we have, so perhaps you could - if you don't mind?"

He paused to collect his thoughts and realize that, as unfortunate as it was, this was indeed real life. "Oh, of course," he said, gingerly taking the arms proffered to him. They were thin, almost bird-like, and chafed from repeated attempts to escape. In only a moment he had unknotted the ropes.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, silhouette moving as she rubbed her wrists up and down. "I haven't had feeling in my hands for what feels like forever."

"Yes," said Damon, unsure of what else to say.

"How rude of me!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Rhonda, will you pass me a match?"

A match appeared and sparked into life. She reached expertly into the shadows and quickly lit the wick of a white candle, then placed it in a rusty tin dangling from a wooden post in the center of the room.

Now Damon could see the two women before him: they both looked exhausted, with bags under their eyes and unkempt hair. One was tall, angular, with dusty red hair and a sallow complexion, and the other was much smaller, with ebony skin and eyes that shone out of the blackness.

"I'm Rhonda, Rhonda Kazembe," she said presently, "and this is Pencilla."

"You can call me Number Two," Pencilla said.

_Author's note_

So it looks like two important characters have returned! I'm sure more will resurface in future chapters. Thank you ever so much for your reviews; they really mean the world to me. The fact that you are all so supportive and fond of my writing makes me extremely happy. This may be preemptive, but I was thinking that, seeing as you have all said that my writing is nearly as good as Trenton Lee Stewart's, once I've completed this story - well, it's nearly a novel by now! - I might go back and revise everything and make a little hardcover book out of it (most likely using or something similar), which I would gladly sell online on for a very minimal price. If you think you would be interested in it.

I do apologize profusely for my slow updates. I do have a relatively busy life, and just returned from a month of traveling to various places, so it's really all been a whirlwind and downtime minimal. I've also been working a lot on my music (I'm recording an album next year) so, busy busy! I will try to write as quickly as I can though, and post at least a chapter a month, if not every two weeks or so.

Quick shoutout to user khdayskh1314, your review made me smile! Never fear, there will be plenty of Kaynie fluff. I'm a little iffy on the rating, because I had it rated as T and that bothered some people, but I think kissing is still K-appropriate, and if not I will change the rating because of course a kiss or two is inevitable!

Sorry for the absurdly long author's note. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and keep being wonderful and reviewing and such!


	36. Chapter 37

_Author's note - _Oh, goodness. I don't even know what to say, except that I am so incredibly sorry for slacking on updates. I've been busy with my newest Harry Potter fanfiction, _March Malaise_, which is no excuse for leaving you all hanging, but an explanation nonetheless. I hope you like this chapter - I've kind of given up on POVs for the time being, so assume this is all in third person omniscient. I know this is all haphazard in terms of formatting, primarily due to my inconsistencies in posting, but I promise when I'm done with the entire fic I'll go back and fix everything; I just wanted to give you at least something so you know I'm still working on it.

_x_

His name was Damon. He was an ex-Ten Man, and Cleo was his daughter. Understandably, Rhonda and Number Two were suspicious of the guy; however, the pressed urgency in his voice was undeniably sincere.

"You know the children?" he asked swiftly. "You're the little one's... parents?"

"Constance," said Number Two; a pained look crossed her face, and her hands went inexplicably up to her chest. "I hope she's -"

"No promises," said Damon shortly, and felt about for an exit, a latch, a vent, anything.

Rhonda piped up, "If you're looking for an escape, there's a window here that's been painted over. We couldn't get it undone because of our hands. Do you happen to have anything...?"

"Oh. Uh, yes," he said, and ruefully produced one of his pencil darts. Both women flinched. He felt terribly guilty - it wasn't as if he _wanted_ to make the elephant in the room (namely, that he was intimately affiliated with the tyrant who was directly responsible for their plight) any larger. Regardless, desperate times called for desperate measures. "Where is it?"

They led him to the location, dissolving into whispers once he turned his back. No one could blame them for this; the situation was a particularly uncomfortable and precarious one, so he kept quiet and made fast work of scraping off the putty and prying the flimsy frame off of the wall.

"Come on, then," he said tersely, and hurried the women through. The threesome stepped blindly into the gaping hole and found themselves on a sand bank. To be more precise, a seashore. The water lapped at their feet and waves undulated, swaying to a rhythm orchestrated by the breeze.

"What is this place?" asked Number Two in wonder, inhaling the salty air.

"I've no idea," murmured Damon. "We never - they never knew about it."

"You're _the_ Ten Man, aren't you? McCracken's right hand man?" Number Two said keenly, squinting at him.

"I -"

"Yes, yes, I remember now. You took us away from the house," said Rhonda, stepping gingerly over cracked seashells and driftwood. "I saw your face for a split second."

"Yes, but -"

"I'd say you owe us an explanation," Number Two said sternly, crossing her arms.

"The children," he said pleadingly.

He shifted self-consciously under Rhonda's scrutiny until she nodded curtly. Placing a gentle hand on her companion's arm, she said, "He's right. We can interrogate him later."

"Hmph." They ambled about the small island in peculiar quietude.

"What's this?" he said presently, and ducked beneath a moldy beam. "It's been opened."

"Looks like a secret passageway to me," Number Two said smartly. "Should we go in?"

"You don't know what kind of traps McCracken might have set up," Rhonda pointed out, stepping away.

"That doesn't matter," Damon said offhandedly. They stared at him.

"Excuse me, our lives are in jeopardy here, and we won't be much help to the children - and your daughter - if we're chopped up into pieces," snapped Number Two indignantly.

"No, no. All the Ten Men have electronic cards that protect us from our own deadfalls. If he's set any up, and it's quite likely he has, I'm able to override the trigger signal." He whipped out a credit card and handed it to them. "You'll see the back glints ever so slightly, and there's a faint beeping noise. Hear that? It will alert us if there's a trap, and I'll swipe it against a hidden target to disengage the threat."

"You certainly do a thorough job," said Rhonda wryly. "Think of how all these skills, this genius, could be used for _good_."

"Yes, well," said Damon, and didn't continue, for a lump had developed in his throat that he dearly wished would disappear. Coughing, he gestured for them to follow him into the dank, shadowy cave laid bare by the removal of a clumsily thrust-aside trapdoor.

As soon as they'd taken ten steps inside, the card began to glow and vibrate in Damon's hand.

"Ah, yes," he said in a hushed voice, and tapped something on its front. A box descended from the ceiling, with a blinking bulls-eye at the center, and disappeared when he brushed the piece of plastic against it. "All safe. It was a laser beam, nothing big."

"A laser beam can cut off your ears," Rhonda pointed out.

"I suppose you haven't been privy to the button, then?"

"Of course, we've been researching it for the past year, we knew you were up to no good, you lousy scoundrels," stormed Number Two. "Rhonda's just saying that even compared to that godawful contraption, a laser trap isn't 'nothing big.'"

Damon didn't know what to say: he knew his handiwork was responsible for wreck and ruin - possibly that of his own daughter - and he didn't need anyone to tell him so. Instead, he plodded along silently, pledging to fight to the death to free everyone he'd worked so diligently to imprison.

They reached the entrance - a simplistic porthole, no bells and whistles - and opened it.

"Empty," Rhonda said, flinching as her voice echoed around the hollow atrium.

"I know this place." Damon's brow furrowed. "This is - this is the nucleus of Quadrant II. How did that tunnel...? Never mind."

"I wonder where the others are?" said Rhonda. "The Ten Men, I mean."

"Probably wherever he took Cleo," he said grimly. "I have a nasty hunch that we'll find your children there as well." A kiosk was erected in the center. He hastened to it. It was locked, but opened at the wave of his hand, and he beckoned them inside. "We've all got tracking numbers and electronic identifiers. Problem is, they beep every time someone's locating us. It will arouse suspicion for sure."

"Will it disclose your identity?"

"No. Even so, I'm certain McCracken would know it's me."

"Is it worth it?"

He thought of Cleo, and of Lissa waiting at home. He thought of birthday cake and cinnamon sugar toast and snow days and hot chocolate. He thought of hugs and kisses and Friday night movies. He thought of family, of love, of friendship, of hope. And he said, with the most utterly genuine conviction of his life, "Absolutely."

_xxx_

"What?" Kate said, not knowing what else to say.

"What are you doing here?" asked McCracken pleasantly. A score of Ten Men surrounded him, all leering.

"You're disgusting," Harper said savagely; her face contorted in unnameable grief. "You're _despicable_."

"Am I, then?" McCracken smirked at her, idly stroking the pencil in his hand. "I see. You know, I don't believe we've met. I'm -"

"McCracken, loathsome fool. I'm well aware. Harper."

"That's rather harsh, wouldn't you say?"

"No."

He sighed. "Alas, you can't impress everyone. Now, shoo."

"Pardon?"

"Was I not clear enough?" A wave of cologne suffocated her as he moved closer, until they stood nearly nose-to-nose. "Get. Out."

"No."

"You're not wanted here," he said in a bored voice. "You and your pathetic pity party out there at the beach? You think I didn't see you? Oh, I saw you, alright. I decided to humor you - it's such fun to watch people fruitlessly pursue their unattainable dreams and desires." This he accentuated with a flourish of his gloved hand. "Despite that, I've had enough now. Take her away, men."

"No!" cried Kate, jumping in front of the woman. "Don't touch her! She didn't do anything!"

"Oh, Katie, Katie, Katie." He clucked at her. "You truly are something."

"Don't touch her. I know you've got that awful button. Don't you so much as _think _of using it on her."

"And you think you're going to stop me now? With all the back-up I have, and your precious friends sound asleep? How adorable. How perfectly _charming._ No, sweetheart, I'm afraid I'm going to have to -"

Milligan stirred in the corner groggily, a motion that only Kate, with her acute vision, glimpsed. When he opened one eye to peer at his daughter, his gaze was alert and calculating. He winked. Imbibed with a new confidence, she straightened up, taller and stronger than ever before. "You won't get away with this, you know. You won't. You can try to kill all of us off - I dare you." Words could not describe the adrenaline rush surging through every inch of her body; she was ready to fight, to end the corruption, the villainy, forever.

"Do you double-dog dare me? That, my dear, is the real question."

"Oh, you deplorable -"

Milligan sprang to his feet; the Ten Men encircling him jumped immediately and reached for their weapons. He was too agile for them, though, and when he casually threw three off his back, he was staring at Harper.

"Milligan!" Kate reached for him.

It was as if she didn't exist. "Harper," he whispered. "_Harper._"

Tears filled the woman's eyes as recognition dawned, puzzle pieces clicking into place. Her hands trembled, lips quivered; he touched her arm gently.

"I can't believe it," he said wonderingly. "It's - it's you."

"It's you," she repeated softly.

"Who am I?" he asked, and ran a finger lightly from her temple down to her chin, catching a teardrop.

"Dave," she said. "Dave."

McCracken watched this interaction, an expression of the deepest emotion clouding his face. Something had punctured his defensive walls. Something prevented him from pouncing, easy as it would be to take advantage of this opportunity. They were both immensely distracted, and his men were ready to act the instant he made his command. Something stopped him in his tracks as he reached for the button, something broke inside of him as Kate said uncertainly,

"Milligan?"

"I'm Dave," he said; then, louder, "Katie-cat! This is - this is your mother."

Kate looked at him blankly for a full second. She stammered several incoherent things, and finally settled on, "_What?_"

"Harper - Harper - oh, Harper - she's your mother, she's my wife, she's - I'm Dave, not Milligan - this is -"

"You're my _mom?_"

"I am. I am, I am, I am. You're my daughter, my darling Katie!"

"You're - I have a _mom?_"

"You do."

Kate ran a shaky hand through her hair. "Wow," she said, exhaling a puff of breath, "we sure have a lot of catching up to do."

Milligan laughed, a crazy, ecstatic guffaw, and gathered his family into his arms.

Just to put a bit of a damper on things, McCracken conveniently chose this moment to slip his tie from his neck, aim, and strike Kate with the metallic bullwhip at its tip. Its blow was dealt instantaneously: she barely had time to cry out before crumpling to the ground.

"What a shame," he said coldly, stepping over her body and kicking it carelessly to the side. He advanced on the couple, both members of whom were horrified. "What a positively _dreadful_ shame."

_x_

_Footnote - _I have already storyboarded the next two chapters. I am going away in two weeks, and will try to have both chapters posted before I leave. Thank you for your patience, please don't forget to R&R and F&F! I adore you all.


	37. Chapter 38

_Author's note -_ Thank you for your reviews, follows, and patience. My apologies for a short chapter: I was going to combine this and the next chapter into one, but decided I ought to put this up first and post the other later, so you all know that I'm still here at least.

As mentioned before, I plan to revise this fic in its entirety once I'm done - and we are coming near to the end! For now, focus on the story and not the potential typos or formatting inconsistencies. Thanks!

_x_

_38._

"Hey!" shouted Reynie, having unexpectedly come to, and as McCracken spun around in shock, the teenage boy threw a punch with surprising ferocity. "Don't - you - dare - hurt - her!" he yelled, pummelling the villain, whose arms flew up automatically to protect his chest. Milligan seized Harper's hand and murmured something in her ear, to which she nodded grimly.

"Now, that won't do," said McCracken, finally gaining his composure and a vise-like grip on Reynie's wrists. "Ryan, if you would deal with this young man?"

Leering, a Ten Man whipped out a laser pointer and aimed. Milligan had somehow disappeared; Reynie struggled, cringing, when, out of nowhere, the weapon was whacked out of his grasp. "Now, I don't think that's right at all," said S.Q., casually flipping Ryan over onto his back. "You leave my friends alone, now."

"Don't just stand there, do something!" cried McCracken.

In a flash, a dozen Ten Men were wrestling Milligan, Reynie, and S.Q. to the ground. They fell in a heap of grunting and kicking limbs, each one holding their own and nobody making any progress.

"The handkerchiefs, you bleeding idiots!" McCracken bellowed. "Brute force won't knock them out on its own!"

One Ten Man reached into his breast pocket, but his smug expression was quickly replaced by confusion, and then horror. "What the devil - ?" For his fist brought up nothing but air, and Harper stood at the other end of the room, waving twelve gleaming bandanas and smirking.

"Bet you didn't reckon on her being an excellent pickpocket," said Milligan. The remaining Ten Men, refusing to believe that they'd been so easily foiled, were caught off guard and their prisoners easily overcame two or three of them apiece.

"What are you going to do now, then?" asked Reynie, coming to his feet, red-faced and furious. "With ten Ten Men down?"

McCracken sneered. "I've got plenty more," he said complacently, and motioned.

Another wave of his minions materialized, revealing annexes that it seemed only they had access to and that expanded the size of the chamber considerably. In smooth simultaneity, they all reached for their briefcases. Cleo suddenly leapt up and tackled one man by the knees. Two others advanced quickly on her; she shrunk away with a frightened squeak, but Sticky appeared, eyes on fire as he seized a gold ink pen from a Ten Man's hand and tapped it lightly on his head. He collapsed, down for the count, and Sticky helped Cleo to her feet, saying, "C'mon, it's not over yet."

McCracken stood in the middle of the room, watching his world fall apart. It was brutal, it was painful, and it was well-deserved. Part of him knew that this was only fair, that he had had this coming to him for ages. And so when Constance blinked into consciousness, she immediately tugged at his mind. He was vulnerable; he knew what she was doing, that he was being manipulated. "Leave me alone," he said weakly.

The girl's gaze was blazing, flush spreading across her cheeks, sweat beading up on her forehead. He was laid bare; he was defenseless; she twisted his thoughts until he had utterly no control.

"Stop," he begged her.

Still concentrating, still drawing out memories and equations and nerves, she crossed her arms and demanded, "Why?"

"I didn't - do - anything -"

"To deserve this?" Reynie spat. His shirt was torn now, and bruises formed spots across his face. At his feet, though, lay several more Ten Men, and as one groaned and tried to sit up he slammed his foot on him - _it_, really, for McCracken's rule had reduced human beings to mere devices - unmercifully. "There's a great big list, actually. However, I wouldn't want to waste your time."

"Please - just - stop -"

"Constance, watch out!" S.Q. swept in and lifted her swiftly up onto his shoulder just as McCracken lunged clumsily for his index cards, which he aimed sloppily and ended up taking out two Ten Men. The girl's life was saved, but the connection was lost.

What neither noticed was the Ten Man beside them, playing dead, who sneakily crept nearer until he jumped up, reaching for his shockwatch. Constance yelped; S.Q. lunged, and before either of them could do anything, Mr. Benedict had attacked him, hurling the watch across the room and crying, "Take him down!"

McCracken spun wildly around. It was as if he was moving through a thick jelly, and the harder he fought, the stiffer it became. Panic pumped through his veins and overflowed. He heard himself scream, watched the love uniting this incorrigible group of people take down everything he'd sacrificed, all to produce what? A button that he now inexplicably found himself unable to use. Perhaps it was that meddlesome, foolish girl's act of protecting Harper, the way she threw herself in front of her, that rendered him physically incapable of reaching for it. It must be her fault that he stood so paralyzed... yes, it was her fault indeed.

Of course, we all know that if anyone was to blame, it was not Kate. No, she only shook his confidence in a way that nobody had mustered up the courage to do before. At some point, everyone must face a reality check, heroes and villains alike, and, it would seem, this was an unusually cruel and fitting one. McCracken's entire life had always been devoted to pure evil. To tearing those down who made him feel inferior, and building those up who he saw as weak enough to fall under his power.

I dearly wish that this could be some sort of lesson to you all, you know, something about making the proper choices and not going down the path of mass destruction, but alas, I cannot bring myself to that. McCracken's tale - though far from over - is a tragic one, and I do believe a lively story with no intended moral is long overdue, wouldn't you say?

At any rate, McCracken's hand was trembling rapidly, much akin to a leaf in a dreadful storm, when his lapel began beeping and blinking.

"_Damon_," he sibilated. "Oh poor, poor Damon."


	38. Chapter 39

_Author's note - _Sorry for the slow updates. Thank you for your lovely reviews. You are all wonderful x and a very merry Christmas to you all!

Also, if any of you have a Tumblr, feel free to follow me - my URL is "hopeandmore".

Happy reading!

_39._

McCracken was quite mad by now, and seized onto Damon's reappearance as a final, desperate lifeline. You see, he ran on anger and vindictiveness the way good people run on happiness and laughter (that did sound terribly cliche, didn't it?). Though undeniably enraged at this point, he could not bring himself to focus on one target, nor to summon a scheme of any sort. Constance had already disarmed and disoriented him, not to mention the fact that as he spun around at the telltale beeping, the entire Society took out several more Ten Men.

"Reynie," whimpered Kate as she came to, feeling very drowsy and alarmingly vulnerable.

"I'm here, I'm right here," he said, grabbing a Ten Man's tie and whipping him with it. A pained grunt escaped both men; they tackled each other. It was a brief, ten-second scuffle, however, and Reynie jumped to his feet as soon as his victim had fallen limply to the floor.

Kate registered this interaction dimly, reaching out a hand for belated assistance. "What's - are we fighting still?"

Panting, Reynie ran a hand through his hair, looking understandably stressed. "Yeah. Don't worry, though, we've got weapons, they're running out, won't be many more now -"

"Reynie?"

He elbowed a Ten Man in the gut, hooking him around the ankles, and came up for air, gasping slightly. "Yes?" he wheezed.

Kate struggled to her feet. "Thank you."

"What for? Hold on." He gritted his teeth, caught a flying briefcase and hurled it back at the attacker.

"For being...you. I really like -"

S.Q. sprinted over, huffing. "Turns out that some of his men were out on missions - terrible, horrible, awful missions, I daresay - so this is all he's got." He inspected the battleground critically. "There are a few over there, but I think they're cowering a bit." Indeed, the remaining Ten Men were trying desperately to retreat into the corner. Milligan and Harper were quickly advancing on them, however, ballpoint pens in hand. One of them broke into tears presently, and, looking disgusted, Milligan pushed him aside. He fled, bloody nose staining his ripped shirt, void of his weapons.

"What's he doing?" Reynie suddenly said sharply. Following his line of sight, Kate and S.Q. watched McCracken fumble for a small remote control-like item and press a pulsing green button.

"Oh god," whispered Kate, turning white as a sheet. "I don't know if - if I can..." After all of this, after everything, the Great Kate Weather Machine was failing. Confidence rapidly abandoned her, replaced with a hollow despair. She had fought, she had faked smiles, she had offered hope when none of her loved ones could possibly see a future ahead of them. And now she was drained.

"Yes you can," said Reynie, and reached for her hand.

She flinched, trying to pull away. "We don't know what that button does, we don't - stop it - now is not the time, stop -"

"You can do it," Reynie said, and tucked her into his arms as she took three shaky breaths. "There you go. It will be fine, okay? I don't know how, none of us do, but I promise you, it will be okay. You can do this."

Feeling utterly pathetic and ashamed, Kate sniffled and wiped her nose. "I can?"

Arms strong around her - when did he get so tall, so handsome, even with gashes across his face and a t-shirt split straight down the middle? - Reynie tightened his hold and, lips hovering close to her ear, murmured, "You can."

He relinquished his hold, fingers still entwined with hers, and finally her eyes met his. In that one gaze, that one touch, Kate felt her strength come to life once more. _Come on, Kate,_ it said. _Keep fighting. You're so close to winning; you can't give up now._

She stood taller, casting the others (who were looking exhausted, unsure, and frightened) a bright, reassuring smile. The room quieted. Straggling Ten Men slunk off, leaving their master to fend for himself.

"Why don't you just give up?" Cleo asked suddenly, looking at McCracken. His hair was graying, his coiff disrupted, and worry wrinkles cut through what, once upon a time, might have been a handsome face. "Do you really want to be evil?"

His eyes hardened, some broken remnant of heartlessness triggered by her words, by the sympathy in her voice. Sticky, noticing this, moved automatically to shield her.

"It's okay," she said, and again, "It's okay."

"I don't give up," McCracken growled.

"What about giving in?"

"They're the same thing."

"I don't know about that. You can give in without being defeated."

"I don't have time for -"

"All your Ten Men are gone," Reynie spoke up. "You're outnumbered. You've got no backup. All you have left are buttons and plots that, frankly, we plan to debunk. Give in. Let us forgive you."

"Forgive yourself," said Cleo quietly.

"You have a daughter," Milligan pointed out, nodding at Kate. "Do it for her."

"I have a daughter," McCracken snarled. "I know that."

"Exactly," said Milligan. "And if you truly love her -"

"I have a _daughter_," McCracken repeated, and the door burst open. Mackenzie flew wildly into the room, a massive backpack strapped to her shoulders, which nearly tipped her over. She regained her balance and smirked at Cleo's horrified expression. "'No backup'?" cackled McCracken, vitality restored. "I've got all the backup I need right here. Turn around, girl." He extracted a ferocious-looking remote control helicopter. "You don't want to know -"

"Excuse me," said Number Two suddenly from the entryway. "I don't believe you should do that." Beside her, Rhonda tsk-ed and crossed her arms. The children let out involuntary cries, but Reynie grabbed Constance before she could run to the two women.

"McCracken," said Damon.

If he was disarmed, McCracken did not show it. "Gone over to the dark side, I see," he sneered. "Well, your loss."

"Not particularly," said Damon tersely. "In fact, I would beg to differ, except I refuse to beg."

With a teenage-like scoff, McCracken reached for the toy's control, but Milligan seized his wrist before he could move. "I think we're getting a little too button-happy, wouldn't you say?"

"Mackenzie, show me what you've got," McCracken said lazily. A whirring sound grew from within the backpack, and she pulled out a miniature fan. Its blades glinted, steely and sharp.

"I think you've forgotten what _I've_ got," said Damon, holding up his briefcase. In a smooth, practiced move, he lassoed Mackenzie with a paper clip chain, pulling her to the ground. The backpack fell with a giant thump, and as McCracken reached for it, Damon unleashed every single weapon with which he had been outfitted over the years. Staplers, paperweights, pencils - enough for an entire office supply store - flew through the air, projectiles whistling and whips snapping. "Thanks for these!" Damon yelled above the racket. McCracken screamed, trying to dodge the attacks, and he was good: the objects only grazed him. Damon's confidence was wavering as he reached inside and had to root around some to find another device.

"Dad!" Cleo called out, tossing him a stray tie, as Mackenzie loosed herself and uttered the same word, clumsily throwing a binder at her father. Both men caught their respective articles and advanced on each other. Damon's hit was ousted by the notebook, which McCracken cleverly employed as a shield.

"I do wish I could help," S.Q. murmured to Sticky, but they, like the others, stood dumbfounded. To a point, this war had peeled off into separate battles, each one having taken his turn facing off with McCracken, and right now Damon was up to bat, so to speak. And so helplessly they watched.

"You're bleeding," Cleo cried in dismay, rushing to Damon's side.

"I'm fine," he said tightly, eyeing McCracken, whose hungry eyes flickered to Cleo for a split second. "His binder nicked the edge of my face, that's all. Go back with Sticky."

She crossed her arms, and, for possibly the first time in her life, said, "No."

"Cleo, please. Umph." He held up his briefcase just in time to blunt McCracken's blow, but had paid dearly for the small lapse in focus. Mackenzie was quickly loading weapons into the man's hands, matching conspiratorial grins plastered to their faces. These were things that had not yet been released to the Ten Man nation. No, the goods that McCracken had hoarded away were prototypes, for the most part - evil, twisted takes on everyday household items - and Damon was out of his element.

An iron came zinging past his ear; a normal one in itself could inflict a fair amount of damage, but this detonated against the wall, blowing open a cavity five feet in diameter and sending shrapnel everywhere. Kate yelped as a small fragment scraped against her shoulder, then landed at her feet and exploded into splintered charcoal bits.

"Oh my god," breathed Cleo, pushing Sticky away and disregarding his protests. "I've got to help him."

"Here." Rhonda thrust a piece of piping into Cleo's hand.

Without hesitation, the girl received the object and shouted, "Leave him alone!" She and Mackenzie charged towards each other, Mackenzie getting there first and pulling Cleo's hair as if they were preschoolers arguing over a misplaced toy. Damon hurled his briefcase squarely at McCracken, whose right jaw was clipped as he flinched just slightly too late.

"You'll pay!" shouted Mackenzie, lunging at Damon, but Cleo grabbed her with strength she had no idea she was capable of possessing.

"Dad!" shouted Cleo, waving the arm not pinning Mackenzie against a wall. "Dad."

"I'm a little busy right now," he said with gritted teeth, shaking his head vehemently as Mr. Benedict and Milligan motioned that perhaps they ought to step in. McCracken was circling him; neither man broke eye contact or blinked for a second.

"Dad - just - I've got it."

"What?"

"Trust me. Keep doing what you're doing."

"I wasn't planning on stopping."

"Plans change," said Mackenzie loftily, dignity bruised but not lost. "We never thought you'd become a filthy traitor."

"Yeah, and I never thought your dad would go to the lengths he did. We all face surprises, kid."

"Dad," said Cleo.

McCracken passed in front of her, and Damon's eyes flickered to hers for an instant. Understanding passed between them - understanding as only Kate and Milligan could fathom - and Damon beamed.

"What's got you all perked up today?" said McCracken.

"Oh, you know. The usual. Making a point not to kill innocent people. Staying away from torture devices, and the like."

"Don't be sarcastic. It isn't fitting," McCracken drawled.

"Oh? Was sarcasm not one of the first methods of cruelty taught at your convoluted little Ten Man school?"

"Don't mock me," McCracken spat, brow darkening. "You were always weak."

The vein at Damon's temple throbbed, but he kept his cool as Cleo adjusted her hold on Mackenzie, shifting ever so slightly to be closer to the men. "What's your problem?" he asked simply. "Who made you this way?"

"You would never be able to imagine," said McCracken, "what I've sacrificed to get here."

"Yeah," said Damon in mock pity. "Yeah, it must have been tough, turning into an evil dictator."

McCracken's face grew red. "You dare mock me?"

"Evidently, yes. Now, what's this?'

"What's what?"

Damon kicked away the pile of weapons that had accumulated between him and his adversary in one swift move. Cleo leapt forward, sharp fingernails chafing the skin around McCracken's neck, and plunged her hand into his jacket, snatching the button. Her father winked at her.

And then everybody, Mr. Benedict and Rhonda and Number Two and Milligan and Harper and Kate and Reynie and Sticky and Constance and S.Q., everybody who had stood there in tense silence and apprehension, converged on McCracken. Mackenzie tried to throw herself into the middle of the heap and only got trampled. Cleo held the device tightly, knuckles white, and suppressed a shudder. This evil thing, this red button, was responsible for so much pain - and could have ruined even more lives, if they did not successfully eliminate it. The war was not over yet. The button still lived, pulsing and hot, as did McCracken's horrid ideas.

He was pinned to the ground now, limp with defeat.

"Take me away, then," he spat, elbowing Reynie in the face. "This won't be the last of it."

"Really, now?" said Milligan, raising an eyebrow. "I think it will."

Faces turned towards Cleo. She trembled. The unspoken question hung in the air.

"Do it," Milligan said grimly.

"No," said Damon suddenly. He pulled Cleo into exhausted arms, grimacing at the exertion. "We aren't like him."

"He deserves it," Sticky said quietly. "He hurt us." He nodded at Cleo. "He hurt you."

"I don't think we should," said Constance. "Not with the button. That's too mean."

"We can't just let him go."

"He'll punish himself," Mr. Benedict said. "His guilt - there is nothing like guilt to drive a man mad. He's lost everything. Shame, loss, grief. He will have to deal with those the rest of his life."

"So do we throw him in jail?" asked Sticky in a hushed voice.

"I think not. I've an idea." He looked up at Rhonda, then Number Two, then Milligan. Clearly they had all discussed this before. The children relaxed slightly, then exchanged knowing glances. They were sure to hypothesize the moment the Mysterious Benedict Society had an opportunity to host another meeting, which was bound to be a very long one. Mr. Benedict smiled warmly, wrapping an arm around Constance and S.Q. "But first, I think it's time to go home."


	39. Chapter 40

**Oh god. It's been so long since I've updated that I completely forgot about my own character.**

**I will update very soon and keep this message up until I do, filling you in on what happens to Sophie.**

**My sincerest apologies.**

_Author's note - _Wow. Two years of frenzied writing later and this story has finally come to an end.

Thank you to all my followers and reviewers. It really means so much.

I do have future plans. First of all, I may consider writing a few spin-off one shots, if anybody wants more Clicky or Kaynie or anything.

Secondly, I fully intend to gradually go through this entire story, beginning to end, and make edits, fix formatting, name chapters, etc. I am very excited about this, though it will probably take me another year. I will completely update the fic at that time, and let all of you guys know if you want to re-read a less haphazard version.

Thirdly, if you want to read more of my writing, make requests, submit fic prompts, or just chat (because you all are really lovely), feel free to follow me on tumblr. My main blog is .com and my Sherlock blog (any Sherlockians out there? If you are, I beg you to message me) is .com.

Without further ado, here is chapter forty.

_40._

2 weeks later

Reynie caught Kate's wrist as she moved to follow Sticky and Cleo inside, bearing a stack of paper plates. Her eyes widened; she turned toward him, and, gazing into her blue eyes (oh dear, that does sound terribly sappy and romantic, doesn't it? But while those like Constance may scoff, we all know better than to dismiss youthful love, and so I hope that you will bear with me here), he slipped her hand inside his own.

"Reynie?" she asked, and her tone was softer than anyone would have ever expected out of boisterous Miss Wetherall.

"Yeah," he said, voice catching slightly. "I, um..." He looked at her expectant face hopelessly. "I can't - I mean, Kate, do you think...?"

Something in her expression fell just then, and she pulled away, refusing to meet his eye.

"Wait! What's wrong?" he asked, shuffling his feet and feeling very awkward indeed. Their fingers were still intertwined, but loosely so.

"Well, go figure," she said somewhat crossly. "Reynie Muldoon, if you don't come to your senses and say whatever it is you're trying to say, then I might as well just go inside and start guarding the pies before Constance hypnotizes poor Number Two and the next thing you know they're -"

In a burst of impatience, Reynie muttered, "Oh, bother!" and, in a move both shocking and natural, kissed her.

She responded so enthusiastically that the paper plates went flying over the fence as her arms came up around his neck; he gathered her into his embrace and felt so tremendously happy that he had absolutely no idea what to do with himself besides kiss her again. After what could have been ten seconds or five days, he opened his eyes and smiled at her wonderingly.

"Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly. "I mean, is everything -"

"Everything is perfect," he said. Gently, he took her face into his hands and kissed her once more, then held her to his chest, twisting a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger.

"Is this - are we - Reynie!" exclaimed Kate. "We just kissed!"

"A little slow on the uptake," he teased, and she whacked him. His mouth quivered in an uncontrollable smile and he was just about to hug her again when Constance appeared at her back.

"Oh, geez," groaned Kate, trying to hide her flushed cheeks by ducking her head so it quite looked as if she had spontaneously fallen into a deep and upright slumber.

"Constance, please don't -" began Reynie, but she waved him off.

"Let me speak."

He and Kate exchanged helpless glances as the girl scrutinized them.

"You guys really do like each other a lot," she commented. "I mean seriously, your brains won't shut up about the other person." She paused, then smirked.

"Whatever you're about to say, please at least try to be minimally rude," begged Reynie.

"Well, I mean. I really only have about one thing to say about it," Constance said seriously. Her face lit up and she all but yelled, "IT'S ABOUT TIME!"

"Oh, uh..." Flummoxed, Kate looked to Reynie, who shrugged. "Thanks, I guess?"

"Honestly, it's been forever, I've actually composed a poem for this exact moment, and -"

Thankfully, Number Two came outside right then and asked Constance to please make herself useful. This was not a particularly well-received request, but the girl obliged, casting annoyed looks at Kate and Reynie as she left.

"Well, this will be interesting," said Reynie, laughing softly and kissing Kate on the cheek. "I think we can make it, though."

Kate, beaming and slightly giddy, said breezily, "Of course we are. We're Kate Wetherall and Reynie Muldoon." And that settled the matter.

_x_

"Is everything settled?" Mrs. Washington asked.

"McCracken is safely secured, and we've already begun renovating and re-outfitting their headquarters," Mr. Benedict replied. "It seems that your little society" - his eyes twinkled at the children - "somehow gained popularity, and I've received several phone calls in the past few days asking if there is some sort of induction into the group. After much deliberation, I deemed it appropriate and perhaps somewhat genius to amalgamate a support network, so a large section of the new headquarters will lend itself to meetings and such."

"I'm so proud of you," said Number Two. "All of you."

"What did you do with the button?" Sticky asked. Cleo nodded. Quickly recovering, she was now an honorary member of their little family, and spent a copious amount of time with Sticky. Constance, predictably, felt the need to voice her disapproval, saying critically, "You're going backwards. Usually you do the getting-to-know-you-part and _then_ the fighting for your life against evil tormentors," to which Reynie gently pointed out, "I don't think that's really how any relationship has ever worked."

Backwards or not, the two of them were thick as thieves now, texting constantly (much to the annoyance of the other children) and constantly staring at each other with "heart eyes," as Constance so eloquently put it.

"We've banished the button forever," said Rhonda. "With some help from Constance and Milligan - Dave? - we've completely reprogrammed it - it's harmless now - and, as anticlimactic as it sounds, sent it to the junkyard."

"You can still call me Milligan," said Milligan reassuringly. He had his arm around Harper, and Kate smiled fondly at the two of them. They'd spent the previous evening quietly filling in the blanks for each other. It turned out that when Milligan was abducted by the Ten Men, Harper was taken into custody while they decided what to do with her. She was eventually set free, but, having had her memory partially erased, did not remember enough about Kate to search her down. Kate's mind had also been altered slightly, removing all recollection of having a mother whatsoever. It was all in the past now. The only thing that mattered was that they had found each other, in the end.

This was not the only revelation made post-McCracken. S.Q. and Constance were talking - now that he felt more comfortable around all of them, his blunders had significantly decreased and he was almost always intelligible - when he mentioned casually that they'd grown up in the same area.

"Do you remember anything from that time?" he asked.

"No, not from the library, not really," she replied.

"Are you quite sure?" He frowned. "Because I feel like..."

Constance stared blankly at the wall as her brain, rather overexerted, strained to pull up images from her early childhood. Then, suddenly, joyfully, wonderingly, she cried, "There was a boy!" She pointed animatedly at S.Q. "There was a boy, and he always went to the library, and he saw me! He saw me, and he never told, and every day he went there and found that old bookcase, you know, that I lived in, and he said hello. And then one day he was gone." She gazed at S.Q. in wonder. "That was _you_."

He nodded somberly, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It was."

The excitement that this elicited was a little too much for her to handle, so much so that after a solid ten minutes of jumping around and shouting, she fell sound asleep in S.Q.'s lap.

"It was me," he repeated, wrapping his arms around her small frame. "It was me."

_x_

All in all, things were pretty good. Kate had a family, and a boyfriend; Reynie had Kate; Sticky and Cleo could finally navigate the tentative beginnings of a semi-normal relationship (though fighting off evil tormentors together would always be an unusual characteristic of said relationship); Constance had a big brother sort of figure, the only one she didn't snap at; the button was gone; and the Society had become a big success. Mr. Benedict initially considered testing prospective members the same way as he had the children, but in the long run decided that a small, informal interview, and acceptance based on voluntariness, was quite sufficient.

Yes, everything was perfect, or as close as it could get, because perfection is never fully attainable, and if it was, well, this world would be dreadfully dull, and the Mysterious Benedict Society's adventures would never have even transpired. And that, my dear reader, would just be a crying shame.


End file.
